Love is Worth Dying For
by BagpipeHeadache
Summary: I went back to do some revising and editing...and added some new twists... Reviews are always welcome! Also, I'll be at Uni, basically writing and music-ing all day, so my updates will be few and far between. I do apologise to all my wonderful readers. Also, for those of you who are unaware, I began writing this before Goliath was released, so this all takes place after Behemoth.
1. Chapter 1

Love Found at Death's Door (aka Chapter 1)

"Mr. Sharp!" Deryn just about squealed at the sudden presence of the coxswain's voice.

"Your assistance has been requested on the dorsal crank. Bring Aleksander with you; he's complained of boredom it seems. End message."

The lizard waited for a reply, then scampered away across the airship's flank as Deryn gazed back down at her sketchpad. On its white surface she'd drawn a sketch of Alek sitting at the controls of the starboard engine. Deryn had become so mesmerized with capturing every possible detail of the Austro-Hungarian prince that she hadn't even noticed the lizard run up beside her. Chuckling at herself, she stood on the Leviathan's taught surface, pulling tight against the harness that she'd attached to the rigging, allowing her to stand horizontally like a miniscule wing. The hills and fields of Germany rolled past directly in front of her; Deryn reckoned they were a few thousand feet up at least, but the airship seemed slightly closer to the ground than it had been a while ago. Where they descending?

What Mr. Rigby had planned for her and Alek at the dorsal crank was beyond her, but she thought it likely had something to do with their lowered altitude.

OOOOO

"We seem to be losing altitude young master," Klopp said.

"So we are." Alek replied, peering over the side of the engine pod. "How's the carburettor, Hoffman?" A bang and a string of curses emitted from the back of the engine pod as Hoffman struggled to pull his head out of the engine block, his face smeared with engine grease.

"Just a few more minutes of adjustment, sir." He panted.

"Good."

Alek caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to witness Dylan bounding down the Leviathan's flank. Their eyes met, and the midshipman pointed at Alek and beckoned. Alek raised his arms, expressing 'why'. "Mr. Rigby!" Dylan shouted at him. At the recognition of the coxswain's name, he told Klopp to stay at the controls, then fastened himself onto the rigging.

...

"Thank you for finally showing up gentlemen." Rigby said.

"You're certainly welcome sir," Deryn said mockingly. Normally she wouldn't joke around, but today she was feeling inexplicably giddy. She glanced at Alek, and her heart-rate jumped again. She quickly reminded herself not to get caught up in girly things. . .no matter how attractive he appeared with his face dirtied with engine dust, his coat opened, exposing his undershirt which stuck to him slightly at the collar with sweat, as well as-

_Pay attention! _Deryn told herself.

"As you can see to my left, there is a Huxley waiting to take a passenger up." Deryn followed the man's indication, and, sure enough, there was one of the beasties floating gracefully next to the ship. She narrowed her eyes at the sight of it; this Huxley looked different…almost, old and decrepit. Its skin had a very pale gray hue to it, and it didn't seem to be as taught as the others. "Today is this particular Huxley's last mission, which is why we've chosen you, Sharp, to go up in it. You are our lightest middy, after all."

"What for, sir, if you don't mind me asking?" Deryn asked.

The coxswain gave her a strange look. "I'm amazed that you didn't notice his absence. Newkirk's been skulking around down there to check for any anti-aircraft artillery in those old barns. Can't be too careful whilst flying over Germany can we?"

It suddenly clicked in Deryn's head why she hadn't seen much of Newkirk recently: he was on the ground, spying on the bloody Germans!

"The _supreme commanders_," Rigby mocked, "have determined that today be the day we extract dear Newkirk. If he follows his orders, he will be sending up a flare within the hour to mark his location."

"And you want me to look for it, sir." Deryn finished for the coxswain.

"Precisely."

"And what of me?" Alek asked, "Why was I requested too?"

"We're going to teach you how to operate the crank. It's dismally simple, but important seeing as one of our best middies is on the other end of it. We thought it'd be something more interesting than translating for the engineers."

…..

Deryn strapped herself into the Huxley's harness, the old leather creaking as it held her weight. _This one has to be the oldest beastie in the whole bloody air corps._ She thought to herself as she gazed through the field glasses. How did the command entrust Newkirk with this monumental task anyhow? The boy still couldn't tie his own bloody neckties, but he was down there spying on the Germans? The coxswain hadn't even bothered to tell Deryn what colour the flare was either, which didn't help because the Germans would shoot phosphorous flares into the air at the _Leviathan_ on occasion.

A flicker in the edge of her vision caught her attention. She swept the field glasses over to behold a small, green flare, probably from a hand-held flare gun, rise into the air. She followed the smoke trail down to the top of a small, rocky knoll adjacent to a lightly forested area.

"Great job Newkirk! The Germans most certainly won't notice a barking _green_ flare!" She said to herself. The Germans were all using red flares at the time, so Newkirk stuck out like a tree in a flower garden.

Suddenly the ancient beastie she was suspended from performed a lurch downwards large enough to make Deryn gasp. "Calm down beastie, it's only a flare." Deryn said flatly. It was another few moments before she realised something was missing from the world around her. She only noticed it on the edge of her consciousness, but it made her heart sink: the pulsing she had felt from all other healthy Huxleys was gone…

Had this one just _died_?

Her heart sank as she heard what sounded like water draining from the Huxley, the awful bitter-almond scent of hydrogen filling her nose.

OOOOO

Alek watched the green flare in the distance fly up past the ship's flank. The coxswain had instructed him on the crank's use, albeit the "instruction" consisted of being put on the correct side of the crank, told where and how to place his hands on the handle, and which way to rotate to pull in or let out, but Mr. Rigby was called to the bridge as soon as the flare had been set off, leaving Alek alone on the ship's skin.

Suddenly, the crank at his side began creeking. He glanced at it, then up at Dylan in the Huxley. The beast's skin was sagging…was it losing altitude? It was! But how would Dylan get down from-

He finally remembered he was standing next to the bloody crank, so the prince wildly spun the handle. But the beastie was falling too fast! Cranking doggedly, he looked back over his shoulder. It wasn't going to be enough!

Then a slight popping noise made his ears perk up in all the flailing madness. He snapped his eyes down to the rope connecting Dylan to the ship. It was torn and frayed, and its condition was worsening. Alek looked back over his shoulder. The beastie was now free-falling, quickly passing out of view over the other side of the ship. The crank suddenly stopped dead in his hands, jammed by a loop that had somehow formed, drawing the line tight on the bottom, but hanging like a dead snake on the top of the spool. _Well that's not doing any good!_ Alek thought.

In a blur, the rope ripped off the crank and instantly wrapped itself around Alek's ankle, wrenching him off his feet. He was being pulled over the side! Alek grappled for any rigging that he could hold on to, and caught one, but the weight of Dylan and the Huxley pulled him off. Suddenly he was falling free of the ship, away from safety, and his life.

VVVVV

Deryn awoke to a raging headache. It felt like some strange beastie was clawing at the back of her skull, squeezing in pulses that matched her heartbeat. It took her a few minutes to dare to open her eyes, so she resorted to trying to piece together the events that gave her the throbbing in the meantime.

All she could remember was cutting the bottom of the dead Huxley open to form a makeshift parachute whilst tumbling towards the ground. She was alive, so it apparently worked, she just didn't know if she had any other bodily injuries yet. . .

She noticed that her head was bobbing up and down slightly, and she turned a bit and opened her eyes to Alek's face. He was lying unconscious on his back, and Deryn's head had somehow come to rest on his chest. She decided not to stir, and just let the beauty of the moment sink in. She had always wanted to be here, pressed up against the Austro-Hungarian prince in such a way that it was almost cuddling. But she hadn't even told him who she was yet, and she imagined the crew's reaction if this ever happened on the ship. . .

On that note, where was the ship? The airbeast's looming shape was nowhere to be seen in the clouding sky. It was a fast ship, but it wasn't _that_ fast, prompting Deryn to wonder how long they'd been lying here.

Soon, Alek began to stir, and Deryn closed her eyes to feign unconsciousness. The prince took a deep breath, then coughed. He seemed to freeze as he noticed Deryn lying on him.

He nudged her shoulder, "Hey Dylan, you alive?"

Deryn faked a groan. "Aye…my head feels like a beastie's sittin' on it though." She said as she sat up.

All around her where the scattered remains of the Huxley, rigging, and a few parts of the crank.

"Bloody hell," she said.

"Bloody hell is right," Alek said, rising to his knees. Deryn un-strapped herself from her frayed leather harness, then stood slowly.

"You hurt anywhere?" She asked. Alek was still on his knees, staring at the ground.

"I don't think so, but I'm sure I landed on my back."

"Aye, that tends to happen when someone falls." Deryn said mockingly. Alek just chuckled. A metallic glint caught Deryn's attention. She stumbled over to find her rigging knife, stuck blade-first into the grass-covered ground. She pulled it out, cleaned the blade on her trousers, then said, "And I present to you the hero of the day!" She held it above her head.

Alek was on his feet by now. "It was you behind it, was it not? It's useless without you." Deryn shrugged-off the compliment.

"I suppose you have a point." She said, and looked around.

They were in the middle of a suspiciously well-trimmed field of grass. To their left, a faded, wooden fence separated the field from a cobblestone road that stretched for miles before and behind the teens. Still to the left of that, a thick forest of tall, green pine trees followed the road as far as the eye could see. To their right, in the middle of the cultivated field was a small farmhouse adjacent to a large unpainted barn.

"I would be inclined to believe that farmer's not home." Alek said.

"How can you tell?" Deryn asked.

"There are no vehicles near the house or barn. And this doesn't seem like the place that one would walk to the local market." Deryn followed his gaze. Sure enough, there were no vehicles to behold.

"I assume you have a plan, then?"

Alek smiled at her. "Of course, but don't worry; I have experience with this sort of thing."

OOOOO

By the time they reached the barn, clouds had blotted out the sun. It was almost guaranteed to rain, but Alek doubted the presence of lightning. He wondered how long they'd be stuck down here, in the heart of his enemies' land. Even though Germany were allies to Austria-Hungary they were still his personal enemy; they had tried to kill him, after all.

Alek shivered a bit as the wind picked up. Slipping his arms into the sleeves of the farmer's long coat he walked inside the barn, where he found Dylan buttoning the spats on his boots. "I must say, you'd make a fine farmer's son." Alek said.

"Oh sod off. I can't understand half the buttons and ties on this stupid uniform!"

Dylan had kept his midshipman collared shirt and tie on, wearing over it a brown waistcoat, overlapped by a long farmer's coat much like Alek's, which was tied off at the waist by a red sash. His baggy tan trousers stolen from the farmer's wardrobe billowed at the bottom as they were stuffed into his tall boots. His rigging knife was also holstered in his right boot.

"Best we get moving?" Alek asked as Dylan stood.

"Wait a moment, I found something that we might need." With that, he ascended a ladder that Alek hadn't even noticed until now.

"What is it?" Alek asked.

"You mean, what are _they_." Alek heard the lid of a trunk lift open, and some familiar clicking noises soon emitted from the upper level. Dylan's head appeared over the edge. "Catch!" he said, dropping something at Alek. His arms closed around the object. A gun belt! In its leather holster was a shining black Steyr semi-automatic pistol. On the black leather belt hung six clips full of ammunition. Just who _was_ this farmer?

Dylan slid down the ladder, not bothering to use the rungs. When he landed, he bounced on his feet slightly, turning to face Alek, opening his coat to reveal two formidable looking revolvers, as well as a broad, cheesy grin.

"The Colt forty-five, 'The Gun That Won the West'." He said as he pulled one out of the shoulder holster and spun the cylinder. "I love these things. My da had about four of 'em. By the way," he reached into his coat pocket, "I also found these." He handed Alek a small collection of gold coins. The Kaiser's face smirked proudly at him from the dull metal objects.

"We could stay at an inn with this!" he said.

"Let's get moving then."

VVVVV

They hopped over the waist-high fence and onto the road. On the way there, Alek had laid out some plans about how they were going to look for the nearest town or village and find a place to stay for the night. Their cover story was that they were a couple of students on their way into town. It seemed simple enough, although Alek _had_ said that he would do all the talking. It was probably a good idea, Deryn reckoned. They wouldn't want her ruining their cover because she tried to talk to somebody.

As she walked along beside Alek, she wondered how they were going to pull this outrageous plan off. How would they get back home? And, if anybody figured out who Alek was, what would happen to them? Would she ever see him alive again? She tried to shake-off the questions; they'd get through this.

Then a fact dawned on her: she still hadn't told him about her secret. If they were found out, she might not ever be able to, either. She resolved to tell him today; it would be ideal seeing as they were alone together. If she worked up enough courage, she'd tell him as they walked down the road into town, or perhaps at an inn, much like Alek had told her about the Pope's letter in the hotel room in Istanbul.

If they were headed toward a town, that is. They had chosen to follow the path of an old, eight-legged walker filled with ragged and dirty looking labourers. They had been talking about what they were going to buy once they got to town, mostly new clothing or shoes, but all had mentioned a hot meal. Occasional puddles of oil kept them on the walker's track.

The sound of galloping hooves interrupted her thoughts. She and Alek turned to peer over their shoulders. Riding up behind them was a group of about seven German mounted cavalry soldiers. Their pointed, steel helmets shone, even in the dark and clouded weather. Their grey uniforms were broken only by their shiny black riding boots.

"Uh oh," Alek said, "Here comes trouble."

They both took a step to the right, and stood against the fence hoping the riders would pass by on the narrow road. But the officer at the head of the group raised his right hand and shouted, "Halt!" The group brought their steeds to a stop in a semi-circle around the duo, pinning them against the fence.

The officer spoke from the centre of the half circle, "Wohin gehen Sie?"

_ Where are you going?_ Deryn thought. Alek responded to him in German. From what Deryn could pick up, he said that they were just some students headed to town. The Germans exchanged amused glances with each other, then the officer chuckled through his nose and spoke again. The familiar words to Deryn illustrated that they were headed in completely the wrong direction.

"Die stadt ist so." the officer said, and pointed to his right, the _opposite_ way they'd been walking. The two followed the indication, then Alek said something about being lost.

"Ist dieses zutreffende?" the officer asked Deryn.

_ Is this true? _She nodded and said "Ja." The officer lifted an eyebrow, and Deryn's heart leapt. Had she said it wrong? Did the officer notice her voice? His eyes scanned every fibre of her stolen farmer's clothing, stopping at the slight bulges in her coat where the guns lay holstered.

"Was ist dieses?" the officer asked, patting his uniform in the same area.

_ What is this?_ Deryn just stared back. The officer asked again, the tone of his voice betraying his annoyance. The seconds of silence were endless as she locked eyes with the German. They both breathed, the noise becoming the only sound in Deryn's slowing world. Out of the corner of her eye, Deryn saw three of the riders make a move toward their flapped holsters.

"Oh damn it!" she shouted.

Her hands flew to the handles of the revolvers, and she snapped them out in a cross-draw. She fired once at the officer, knocking the spike off his helmet and startling his horse, which reared up on its hind legs, throwing him off in a flail of limbs and noisy riding gear.

_ These buggers haven't been sighted!_ Deryn thought to herself. She'd have to estimate the shots.

She saw Alek draw his pistol, which he then fired, hitting one of the soldiers in the chest. The man fell to the ground and lay still, blood beginning to seep to the front of his uniform. The other steeds had begun to whinny, and their riders fought to maintain control. A couple just jumped off their horses, sending them galloping away. Deryn fired both pistols at a soldier who had done just that. He had already drawn his Mauser, but never was able to fire, as Deryn's aim had been true. Both bullets struck the man in the chest, knocking him back a few feet and to the ground. He didn't get back up.

Suddenly, a shot from one of the Germans smacked the pistol right out of Deryn's left hand. "Cripes!" she exclaimed as she pulled her hand back. She turned to fire back, but Alek had already emptied four rounds into him. He stumbled backwards with a shout. Alek fired once more, hitting the man in the shoulder, sending him spinning to the ground. Deryn fired at another German that was aiming at Alek, who was reloading. The bullet passed through his skull, clanking on the back of his helmet as it exited. The man next to him drew a knife, and drew his arm back to throw it.

_ Not smart!_ Deryn thought to herself. She fired once, hitting him in the trachea. The German's eyes widened, and he dropped his knife to cover his wound just as dark red began to stream from it. He stumbled and fell to the ground, writhing.

Then one of the German guns went off, and Alek let out a cry, clutching at his abdomen. The officer had shaken off the fall from his horse and drawn his Mauser, which now smoked from the barrel.

"Alek!" Deryn screamed, not caring to disguise her voice as Alek dropped to a kneel.

Suddenly, one of the Germans was upon her, tearing the gun from her grasp. This one was young, not much older that Deryn, and the terror showed in his eyes.

Deryn drew her rigging knife, saying, "Ich bin traurig!" as she rammed it into the young German's gut.

_ I'm sorry!_ Their eyes met for a painfully long moment. He looked so confused and surprised. Deryn pressed her lips together to keep from tearing up. He grunted once, then fell to the ground as Deryn pulled her knife back, her hand covered in his blood.

She felt something hit her right between the shoulder blades with enough force to send her to her knees. The officer had pistol-whipped her! She whirled around with her knife, slicing across the man's chest and released a yell of anger. He let out a cry, stumbled backward and hit the ground, tripping over his own feet. Deryn regained her footing, rushing at the German, her knife primed for the kill. She got to within arm's reach of the downed enemy before the morbid realisation dawned on her. The German's hand already grasped the Mauser, his arm rising to align the sights with his eye, aiming right at her.

Deryn swung desperately at the weapon, trying to knock it out of his hand.

She missed.

"No-!"

_ Blam!_

He pulled the trigger.

She felt something kick her hard in the abdomen, and she doubled over, the knife slipping from her hand and clattering on the stone walkway beneath her feet. She coughed twice, and pulled her hand away from herself.

It was covered with her lifeblood.

The officer propped himself up on his elbow, his gun barrel smoking. Their eyes met, and his face turned into a snarl.

_ Blam-Blam!_

He fired twice more. The first striking Deryn in the bottom of her ribcage on her right side, and the second tore through her shoulder. She stumbled and fell backward after the last bullet ripped out the back of her jacket. Deryn's head smacked the cobblestone street, causing her to see stars for an instant.

"Dylan!" Alek shouted from her left, attempting to stand.

_ Blam!_

The officer fired once more.

A bloody hole shred through Alek's pants, just above the knee. Deryn heard a sickening _crack_ immediately after the bullet had passed through his joint, and Alek hit the ground hard, grasping his leg and shouting out in agony.

Deryn tried to take a breath to shout for Alek, but an excruciating pain stabbed at her chest. She managed a ragged gasp, causing her to cough up a mouth full of blood. It drained out the sides of her mouth as she struggled to breathe again.

Tears flooded her eyes.

_ So this is how Deryn Sharp will come to an end? _She thought to herself.

She needed to tell Alek. If not, she would die without him knowing the love she had welled up inside of her for him. She covered the wound in her abdomen with her right hand, barely able to move it because of the pain. She tried to sit up. As she did, she felt her bottom rib snap, plunging itself into her lung. She screamed in agony as she dropped back down to the ground, blood flooding her mouth. Spitting it out, she glanced to her left, where Alek lay.

"A…Alek," She managed to say, "There's…something I need to tell you."

Suddenly, the German officer was standing over her, pistol in hand, his face betraying no emotion.

She quickly turned back to face Alek, the tears running down her face, and said, "He's going to kill me!"

Alek's eyes widened. "No!" He said.

"Sie weiter!" the officer said, pointing the gun in Alek's direction.

_ You next!_

Deryn took another ragged gasp, then began: "My name isn't…Dylan Sharp. My real n-name is Deryn." By the look in his eyes, Alek wasn't following. Dammit! She didn't have time for this!

The officer ejected the used, smoking clip from his pistol. It made a horrible clacking noise as it bounced on the cobblestone street.

"Alek…blast it! I-I'm a girl…"

"W-what?"

"I," she gasped for air, "snuck into the air core as a boy…"

The officer shoved a new clip into the gun.

"And Alek…"

"Yes?"

The German pulled back the slide, and let it go.

"B-before I die…I just want you to know…that," she gasped again, "I-I love you."

Realization finally crept over Alek's face. Deryn stretched out a bloody and trembling hand to him. He stretched out his bloody and trembling hand to take hers, but he was just out of reach. He laid down on his side, and there hands met for the first time in love. The same tingling sensation that she felt whenever they made contact shot back up Deryn's arm. She managed a smile.

"Goodbye…Alek." She wept as she turned to look at the German standing over her. He raised his pistol, aiming at her head.

The kill shot.

She met eyes with him, and he _smiled_. A dastardly, evil smile. This man was truly a monster.

Raindrops began to fall from the sky, almost as if the sky were weeping for her. The officer's finger pulled tighter on the trigger.

Deryn Sharp took one last ragged breath, and closed her eyes…

_ Bang!_


	2. Chapter 2

She waited for the nothingness, but it never came. Had the German missed? How was that possible from so close?

She allowed her eyes to open back up.

The officer was still standing there, frozen in his death-delivering stance. A hole the size of Deryn's fist had been punched through his chest, blood already beginning to accumulate around the wound. Their eyes met again, and he furrowed his eyebrows, as if he were confused with something. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but no sound escaped his lips. Then his eyes glazed over, the pistol dropped out of his hand, and he slumped to the ground to Deryn's right.

Deryn released a blood hacking breath. She turned her gaze to Alek. He was looking away, their hands still gripping each other. She gave his a shake, and he turned his eyes to meet hers. They seemed to be full of astonishment. Deryn reckoned hers did too; who had saved their lives?

She soon got an answer.

From a long way off behind where the German officer had been standing came a shout, "Sharp!" Deryn knew in an instant who it was, no matter how much she couldn't fathom it.

"N…Newkirk…." she whispered hoarsely, smiling at the ridiculousness of it all.

It was true. The clumsy, jumpy, son of a Monkey Luddite , and unassuming Newkirk, had just saved Deryn's life with a shot from so far away, that it took him ages to sprint over to the two lying in pools of their own blood in the middle of a strange German cobblestone street.

He dropped a rather large looking rifle to the ground, and kneeled in front of Deryn. "I saw the whole damn thing! Where did you learn to shoot like that?" Newkirk's voice was slightly deeper than it had been, prompting Deryn to wonder if he was the same person she'd known since she came aboard the _Leviathan_.

She smiled as she said, "My da…loved guns as much as flying, so he…would teach me with…both."

Deryn began to shiver involuntarily; she was going into shock, and the adrenaline was wearing off.

"I see," said Newkirk as he pulled two signal flags out of his coat. Deryn noticed a dark shape loom into view over Newkirk's shoulder.

"Is that the _Leviathan_?"

"Aye, and they're going to pick us up." He turned and waved the flags over his head until the ship flashed its signal lights, indicating it was ready to receive a message. Newkirk went through some movements. Deryn tried to watch, but she began to fade in and out of consciousness. From what she could make out, he was telling the ship that there were two wounded, both in critical condition.

He turned to Deryn, "Everything's going to be all right; they've begun their descent."

A wave of light-headedness suddenly washed over Deryn, and she blacked out.

When she came to, the Leviathan was so close to the ground that she couldn't see any of the stormy sky. Two gurneys were being lowered toward them. She started to fade again, but she fought to stay coherent.

One of the gurneys landed softly on the soaked ground next to her. Newkirk gently half-lifted, half-dragged her onto it; her hand slipped away from Alek's.

She whimpered in pain and her eyes clamped shut as her body was shifted. "It hurts…so much…"

"But you're still alive, and you need to stay that way." Newkirk said as he gently strapped her in.

"Aye, but keep Alek that way too…" She looked over and saw that Alek had dragged himself onto his own gurney.

He glanced at Deryn, and smiled, "See you at the top?"

"You…better be there."

Newkirk set Alek's straps as well, then made wheeling motions with his arms. The great airbeast's crew began to haul up their comrades.

"Alek…"

"Yes?"

"Tell them that only Dr. Barlow and Dr. Busk can treat me…they'd…understand…" The darkness of unconsciousness overtook her.

OOOOO

They made it into the cargo hold, where half a dozen crewmen carried them to the sick bay on their gurneys. On the way there Alek said, "Someone get Dr. Barlow to help Dr. Busk, I don't know if he can handle both of us." Without questioning him, they sent a crewman sprinting for the machine room to fetch them and all of the supplies they would inevitably need.

When they finally got to the sickbay, the lady boffin was already there, dressed in a white dress and apron with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Tazza whimpered and Barlow's eyes widened when the teens were carried through the door.

"My god, what have you two been up to?"

"L-long story…but Sharp is in worse shape than me…"

"Well, let's see to him then!" The crewmen set them on adjacent beds, and the boffin shooed them away.

Dylan-or was it Deryn?- had awakened now, but didn't seem to know where she was. She scanned the room lethargically, as though she were drunk. She opened her mouth to speak, but only her lifeblood drained down and out of the orifice, soaking into the pristine white sheets around her shoulders. They met eyes for a long and painful moment, and tears began to fall from her's again. Alek felt his own eyes begin to well up, and it became harder to swallow.

She probably wouldn't make it.

His one and only true friend on this ship. The only girl he's really ever known who had feelings for him, and there she was, about to die right in front of his eyes.

She went out again.

Dr. Barlow felt the middy's neck for a pulse but shook her head, "It's so faint…there's not much that I can do, I'm afraid. This is a task for Dr. Busk." The lady boffin turned to Alek. "Where are you hurt?"

"Once in the abdomen, and once in the leg. I think the bullet shattered the bone."

"My goodness," Dr. Barlow said as she picked up a pair of shears from her tool kit. She cut Alek's pant leg up the side, splaying it open to gain access to the wound. "Your diagnosis may be right Alek, the bullet hasn't passed through, so it probably hit something, I.e. your femur." The boffin then skillfully snipped open the length of his shirts. "My my! It's lucky the bullet passed through you. I'm going to have to have you sit up." She bent and wrenched on the bedframe until the first half was elevated. "Now you won't lose so much blood." She said matter-of-factly.

The doctor turned back to Deryn and brought the shears down to bear on the Midshiman's clothes, going layer by layer until she reached the white collared shirt. Deryn's eyes shot open and she forcefully grabbed Dr. Barlow's wrist when she was halfway up the garment. The girl held the boffin's gaze for a long moment, and continued holding it when she let go of the boffin's arm. The Dr. finished the job, revealing the Deryn had bound her torso tightly with what appeared to be linen bandages. Barlow met Deryn's un-breaking stare once more.

"I knew something was peculiar about you, _Mr. _Sharp_._" Deryn didn't speak, only nodded, a fresh bout of tears running down her face. She laid her head back down on the bed as Dr. Barlow began retrieving surgical tools.

"D-Dr. Barlow…?" Deryn choked out.

"Yes dear?"

"You know how s-some people say that when you…die, y-you can see a light…at the end of a tunnel?"

The lady boffin froze. "What of it?"

Deryn smiled and chuckled very lightly. "Well, they're wrong…I can't see...a bloody…thing…" Her head slowly rolled to one side, her eyes closed. Tazza made his way over to her bed and licked her limp hand, whining.

Alek sat straight up. "Deryn!" He couldn't hold back his sobs. "Deryn…no please! Don't go!" His heart shattered, and his eyes filled with tears that streamed down his face. "If you can still hear me…I love you too! Don't leave me here alone!"

Dr. Busk finally burst into the room. "Right, what's going on?"

"Treat the midshipman!" Barlow shouted, shoving an array of surgical tools wrapped in a sterile cloth into his hands.

…..

Sunlight made its way across the room until it settled on Alek's eyelids. He opened them, and squinted in the brilliance of it. He sat up, slowly, so as not to hurt his braced leg, wincing as his abdomen changed shape.

_ Deryn._

He took a deep breath, then cast a worried glance at the bed to his left.

Beneath the thin sheets lay a skinny midshipman with blonde hair and fine features, dressed in a white shirt and sick bay regulation white trousers, right arm in a sling.

Deryn Sharp had somehow survived.

It had been a week since the nearly tragic day, and Deryn had been treated numerous times until she was deemed stable enough to be left without an attendant. She had been unconscious, Alek reckoned, up until two nights ago, when she had started muttering words like "Da", "Alek", and "Love." And last night, she began to move around, meaning that a bullet hadn't left her paralyzed.

As Alek looked her over, she began to weep in her sleep. "N-no…" she murmured, turning her head to the side, as if to avoid something. "Don't hurt him…s-stop…Alek…"

Alek watched her dream, wondering what was going on behind her eyelids. She gripped the sheets with her left hand and her right clenched into a fist.

Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, her eyelids shot open, and she cried out "Alek!" Her breathing was heavy and tears fell off her face as she whipped her head around, eyes frantically scanning in every direction.

"I'm here," Alek said softly, "And you're in the sickbay."

She met his gaze. "Oh god! I thought you'd died!" She wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

"It was just a dream." Alek confirmed. "But _you_ almost died, multiple times. I don't know how you survived."

Deryn was silent for a while, then gave him a long look. "Because you said something that day. Something that I'll never forget."

"And what was that?"

She looked away and was quiet for another long moment. She turned back to him, a serious look on her face. "You said you loved me. That alone gave me enough strength to pull through all this."

Alek felt himself blush. "Well then, you're welcome."

Then Deryn's expression turned into a solemn one. "How many people know?"

"As far as I know, only Dr. Barlow and Dr. Busk." Deryn drew in a long, slow breath, wincing as she did so.

"But they're boffins, so they understood. I made sure of it. If they keep their promises, then no one else will know."

Deryn smiled. "Thank you, Alek. Thank you so much."

She slid and put her feet on the floor, her left hand on her knee. With a grunt, she lifted herself from the bed. She stood wobbling there a bit.

"Are you sure you should try that? You haven't walked for a week."

"Well seeing as _you_ can't, I thought I'd have a go at it." Her Scottish accent was back, just like the old Dylan.

Alek turned toward her, leaving his injured leg on the bed. She grappled on to anything to keep her from falling and stumbled toward Alek. She lost her balance and fell into Alek's open arms.

"Careful now," he said chuckling. Deryn giggled back as she gazed into his eyes.

"There's something I've been wanting to try." She said.

"And what is that?" He asked.

She moved her head closer to his, closing her eyes. Alek followed suite. Their noses gently made contact, and their lips pressed together for the first time. Alek's heart raced, and he wished this moment could go on forever. This just felt so right. He finally felt at home; he had found love.

The door burst open, and the couple quickly separated their faces, smiling at one another.

"Well look who's up and moving about! I didn't expect you to be awake for another day or so." Came the voice of Dr. Barlow.

Tazza bounded up beside Deryn, and she scratched his ears. "Nice to see you too Tazza."

"Well, it seems to me that you're feeling an awful lot better. Anything hurting?"

"Everywhere that'd make sense, especially my rib, but nothing I can't deal with." Deryn replied.

"Oh yes, interesting story that. You are quite a lucky one, _Mr._ Sharp," the lady boffin winked at her, "The bullet in your abdomen was much like when Mr. Rigby was wounded; it passed straight through you, missing all of the important bits. The second one, however, shattered on your rib, breaking it, and spraying lots of nasty debris into your lung, which is where most of the blood came from. Your shoulder, though, seems to be healing nicely."

"Thank you, Dr. Barlow, for saving our lives." Deryn said.

"Oh don't thank me! If it weren't for Newkirk, you might not have lived five more minutes on that road!"

"Where is the bum-rag, anyhow?" Deryn asked. "He saves our lives and doesn't even pay us a barking visit?"

"Would you like me to fetch him for you?" Dr. Barlow offered.

"If you'd like to, I'd be much obliged, ma'am." Deryn responded, appearing sheepish at her own lack of mobility.

"Alright then, I'll be back shortly. In the meantime Mr. Sharp, you should get back to bed; I don't need my newly fixed up patient hurting himself again, do we now?" With that, she strode out of the room, Tazza following.

Deryn returned her gaze to Alek. "How's this relationship going to work, hm?"

Alek shrugged, "We'll find a way." They smiled at each other, then kissed one last time before Deryn made her way back to her bed.

On the way there, Alek added, "And I was going to say that you shoot like a girl, but that wouldn't describe it properly." Deryn laughed as she laid down.

"Oh and one last thing," she said.

"You still need to teach me how to fence."


	3. Chapter 3

_The hot-air balloon descended ever so slowly. Ages passed by while Deryn waited in the grassy field, strangely dressed in her midshipman dress suit. The wind gently made waves in the tall strands, like ripples in a pond or loch. The surrounding mountains were a luminous green, some capped with snow, the slivers running like rivers of white down the brilliant slopes._

_ She was back in Glasgow. At her father's favourite time of year._

_ She gazed back up at the dirigible still in its graceful controlled fall. Aye, it was Da's all right._

_Soon, she was able to make out her father's round goggles, and plaid-patterned scarf that she had hand-knitted for him. He gave a wave, and a wide smile spread under his handlebar moustache. She waved back, smiling despite the lump growing in her throat._

_ The basket lightly came to rest on the ground, guided by her father's expertise._

"_Wonderful morning, isn't it dear?" He said as he tightened the propane valve on the tanks. After sliding his flying goggles to his forehead, he removed his gloves, and put them into the pockets of the calf-length leather flying coat that hung off his shoulders._

"_Aye, it is. Barking beautiful." Deryn managed to say in return._

_ Her father opened the basket hatch and stepped out, facing Deryn. She ran to him and collapsed into his open arms, sobbing into his shoulder hysterically. She wanted so badly to tell him everything that happened, and just fly home with him, to leave this insane world behind. She no longer felt like a tough, swagger-filled boy. She no longer bore the demeanour of a midshipmen. This was the pure, soft, frightened and despondent Deryn Sharp, the one she had kept hidden from the rest of the world._

_ But her father was dead. That was the one thing she couldn't change, no matter how hard she wished it._

_ Her father softly stroked her hair and said, "Now what's the matter, Deryn? You act like you haven't seen me in years."_

_ She looked into his eyes, "It's because…it's…just that…" Tears ran down her face._

_ Her da wiped them with his thumbs, "It's alright, you can tell me." He gave a soothing smile._

_ Finally, Deryn built up enough courage to say, "Da…you're dead…" She buried her head back into his shoulder as the last word escaped her lips._

"_Well, that's a bit inconvenient, now isn't it?" He said, as light-hearted as ever._

_ Just like ol' da._

"_So, my dear, what extraordinary adventures have you been up to lately? That uniform you're wearing certainly wouldn't have made it past your mother's eyes. Neither, for that matter, would your haircut."_

_ Deryn pulled away, and placed her hands on his shoulders, looking him straight in the eye. "Father, I am serving as a midshipman aboard the Leviathan."_

_ Her father's eyebrows raised, and another wide grin spread across his face. He beamed at her. "That's my daughter for you: carrying out her father's dreams, and doing a mighty fine job of it as well." He paused for a moment, "There's more, isn't there?"_

_ Deryn could never hide anything from her perceptive father; this situation was no different._

"_Aye, you could say that. Also on board with me is the heir to the throne of barking Austria-Hungary! His name's Alek, and he's only fifteen! He's got a few men with him. A couple of mechanics, and his fencing instructor, Count Volger."_

_ Her da's eyes widened. "My, my, you have been up to a lot while I've been gone."_

_ They smiled at each other. "I suppose you could say that." Deryn said as they embraced once more._

_ Suddenly, a sound like that of Big Ben emitted from the sky, chiming away as though it were on the hour. Deryn's father looked around, then sighed. "Has it been that long already?" he said to himself._

"_What is it Da?" Deryn asked._

"_Oh, I'm out of time."_

_ At hearing this, Deryn's eyes filled back up with tears, "No! Not yet! Please stay Da…just a wee bit longer…"_

"_I'm afraid I can't, my bonnie lass. But all is not lost: later today, someone from our past will be there. He's one of my ol' chaps. Say hello to him for me." He winked at her as he slipped out of her grasp. He held her hands in his for a moment, "I love you Deryn, remember that. And I'm still kickin'. I'm as alive as ever with you."_

_ And with that, he made his way back to the basket. Deryn wiped her eyes as flames shot out of the nozzles, inflating the balloon. He ascended into the pristine sky, and made a heading for the horizon._

_ He turned and waved to her before being surrounded by clouds._

….

Deryn opened her tear-stained eyes to reveal the message lizard tubes on the sickbay ceiling. She'd been here for a month, going through exercises and such to help her recover. Dr. Barlow had visited every day, often bringing Bovril, who had found his way into the sickbay and now resided next to Alek on the bedpost, some kind of food, usually fruit.

The incident with the Germans was still fresh in her mind.

She replayed the events that transpired a thousand times, scrutinizing every detail. She'd continued to have terrible nightmares involving Alek; the same firing sequence would happen, only their roles would be switched. Deryn had been the one with the leg and abdominal injuries, and Alek had been shot three times. Only instead of surviving, he died each and every time. Yet he would always turn his head to her at the last possible moment, and whisper, "I love you." Then his face would become stone cold and dead as his soul left him.

She looked over at him worriedly. The Austro-Hungarian prince was peacefully slumbering, his handsome features completely relaxed. On his bedpost, as loyal as ever, sat Bovril, his large eyes taking in the morning-lit room once again.

Aye, Alek was still there.

Deryn shook the memories from her head, and instead tried to focus on her most recent vision. It was the first she'd had of her father that didn't involve the accident that killed him. This vision had seemed and felt so real that Deryn wondered if it was a dream at all. Was her da trying to talk to her? And what had he meant when he said "One of my ol' chaps"?

She assumed she would find out soon enough, as Dr. Barlow had said that she would be able to walk freely today, but not quite to resume normal duties.

Bloody boffins.

Deryn reckoned she could climb all over the Leviathan, even if one arm was still in a sling.

The rapid pitter-patter of a message lizard sounded through one of the tubes above her head, the creature frantically making its way forward towards the Captain's stateroom. This was odd because only orders from the admiralty or urgent messages to the captain himself came through that message tube. Something important perhaps?

She sat up, wincing as her still-healing gunshot wounds complained, and peered out of a portside window. They were over an ocean, and neither smokestacks nor smoke was visible on the horizon, so they probably weren't battle orders. Of course, battle orders would be sent _from_ the captain's quarters, not to it.

She decided to let it go. Wasn't worth making such a big fuss over such a little thing.

After all, she had some walking to do.

Just as she put her bare feet on the fabricated wooden floor, the doors opened to reveal a beaming Newkirk. A shiny, new medal adorned his chest, and a massive grin soon appeared on his face as he noticed Deryn eying the award.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asked.

"Aye," Newkirk seemed to be struggling to hold back a giddy chuckle, "But that's not all. You two are up to be recognized today as well."

"Recognised?" Alek said, rubbing his eyes.

"Aye, in front of the entire crew too. The captain's making a quite a faff out of the whole thing."

"What the bloody hell for though?" Deryn asked.

"Don't ask me!" the middy said, raising his hands. "I'm just the barking messenger."

"Do you know when?" Alek asked.

"Probably when he introduces our newest officer."

"New officer?" Deryn inquired.

"You didn't hear about it?" Newkirk said, exasperated, "The fellow just boarded this morning. Quite a big chap."

"Did you catch his name?" Deryn asked.

Alek slid and carefully placed his foot on the floor with a hand, grabbing a crutch with the other.

"No, couldn't find anything out about him. Only saw him from a distance until Mr. Rigby shouted at me. He's got brown hair, and has a raven on his shoulder. Oh, and he looks to be about eight feet tall! He's quite a sight, I must say."

"Oh don't be ridiculous," Deryn said, "He'd be too heavy if he were eight feet tall. The ship would tip wherever he walked."

"Precisely, but we're still recovering from our losses in the Switzerland crash, and the poor buggers we lost in Istanbul."

Deryn closed her eyes, remembering the soldiers she'd lead to an almost certain death. She and a small group of airmen had dropped from the Leviathan to the ground near Gallipoli to sabotage the kraken net protecting Istanbul from Darwinist invasion by sea. Everyone but her was either killed or captured. She wished she could've changed things, but she knew that was impossible. "It was only orders" Dr. Barlow would say, but that didn't help much.

"So that means there's more room available on the ship for new people, right?" Alek asked.

"Exactly." Bovril piped in.

"Morning to you too, Bovril," Newkirk said bowing slightly. The loris just giggled.

Suddenly, the doors burst open, and Br. Barlow strode in, Tazza bounding along at her heels.

"It's about time you two were up…well now, are we having a family meeting in here?" She said.

"I guess you could say that, ma'am," Newkirk said.

"Well, it needs to be promptly adjourned. There's preparation that needs to be done. Mr. Sharp?" The boffin gave Deryn a nod.

"Aye, ma'am. I'll get to it."

"Let's get you cleaned up, and I'll have your suit ready."

Deryn carefully stood, then walked to fetch her bathing supplies.

….

Deryn slid her left arm into the sleeve of her midshipman dress uniform coat as Dr. Barlow held it up. This was the only part she had needed help with so far; tying the laces on her boots was next. Although, she hadn't done too badly on everything else. Maybe living with only the use of one arm for a month gives a person practice at that sort of thing. Bathing with one arm was a whole different matter, but that was certainly easier than replacing the linen strands that wrapped her torso to help hide her "diddies", as Jaspert called them. But again, the boffin was there to help.

It felt like she was a child again, having to be helped when dressing.

"Which boot do you put on first?" Dr. Barlow asked out of the blue, one boot in her hand.

"Pardon me?" Deryn asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Which side do you put your boots on first?"

"I don't usually choose a side…" Deryn said, quite confused.

"Oh, I usually start on my right. Must be a superstition I have or something."

"Right…well, you can start with whatever side you'd like." Deryn responded, smirking with amusement. She sat back in the chair as the boffin tied the laces on Deryn's rubber-soled boots.

Someone knocked on the door to the small room.

"Enter." Barlow said sweetly.

The door opened slowly, gliding on silent hinges, to reveal Alek. He was dressed smartly in something that Deryn reckoned he would wear to a fancy dinner or ball. It resembled a top dress military uniform, but without all the medals. He was bent over one crutch, and smiled at Deryn while trying to keep his balance. He continued to precariously wobble though. Bovril didn't seem to mind as he perched on his shoulder.

"Morning Dylan. Ready to stroll?"

"Aye, as soon as I get my sodding boots tied."

"Well don't rush me now!" the boffin said.

"Oh take as long as you'd like." Deryn said with a chuckle. She knew the boffin would have to be precise about everything, and tying laces was no different.

The sound of the all hands to the spine signal echoed through the ship, the rushing of boots softly following. Bovril softly imitated the noise.

"Guess where we're headed?" Deryn said sarcastically.

"I've no idea." Alek replied with equal emotion.

"Finished." Dr. Barlow said as she stood.

"Right then, let's go up top!" Deryn said.

….

It was a beautifully sunny day on the spine with a lovely sea breeze that sent ripples through the uniforms of all of the military personnel lined up in three neat, long rows shoulder to shoulder. Alek and Deryn were a bit late making it up, but then again, this was their first time outside since they were stuck in the sickbay.

Actually, Alek was determined fit to leave weeks ago, but refused to move out, claiming he wanted to stay to "offer emotional reassurance to Dylan". But Deryn knew it was a just ruse to spend time with her, and they had grown even closer because of it.

But she was Dylan Sharp now. None of that mattered at the moment. Besides, the entire crew had been summoned to the spine just to meet a new officer.

Why was he so important?

Captain Hobbes stopped speaking for a moment. "Ah, Mr. Sharp, I'm so glad you could join us. Dr. Barlow," he bowed slightly.

"Thank you, sir," Deryn said, nodding her head once. A few other officers turned their heads to acknowledge the trio as they hobbled to stand in formation. They found a spot in the back where Klopp, Bauer, Hoffman, and Volger stood at attention.

"Gut, Sie, jungen Meister zu sehen." Klopp said as they lined up.

_ Good to see you, young master._

"Now, my fellow officers and servicemen…" Continued Captain Hobbes. Inevitably, he began to drone on about the pride having to do with serving the Royal Air force, or the bravery that the men had shown over the past few years, and what an honour it was to captain one of the most famous airships ever to exist.

Deryn had heard it all before, and instead was focusing on the new officer she'd just spotted off behind the captain. His body was perpendicular to the rest of the crew, facing left, notepad and pen in his hands.

Newkirk was right: this man was barking huge! Even though he stood on the descending slope of the Leviathan's skin, he towered over the captain, who wasn't all that diminutive himself. The man's shoulders were massively broad. Deryn reckoned if she spread her arms out to the sides, the officer's shoulders would reach her elbows. His arms were nearly as thick as Deryn's thighs.

His uniform was perfectly tailored, loose enough for excellent mobility, yet well-fitting enough to show the masses of the man's musculature. Adorning his head was a Balmoral with what looked like ostrich-esque feathers inserted into the side that rose vertically into the air, making him seem even taller, not that he needed any help in that respect.

Sitting on his left shoulder was a large, black raven. He seemed to be talking to the bird, the raven nodding occasionally, yet Deryn couldn't pick up any of the words. The officer was tapping his foot to a brisk beat, his eyes closed, and his hand holding the pen moving almost like an orchestral conductor. He would open his eyes, then scribble quickly on the notepad, holding it up so that the raven could take a look. Was this bird a fabricated beastie?

It was quite a strange sight…

"Isn't that right, Mr. Sharp?" Captain Hobbes' voice brought Deryn out of her thoughts.

"Y-yes, of course, sir." She managed to stammer.

"Thank you, midshipman Sharp," the captain said flatly with a nod, then continued his speech.

At hearing her name, the new officer looked up from his writings, and began to scan the faces of the crew, a hint of recognition in his eyes.

_ His eyes!_

Deryn had seen those eyes before, a long time ago. Now that she looked at him, more features became familiar: his wide roman nose, his strong, but not quite square, jaw, his light brown hair that turned blonde on the edges. Deryn was sure she already knew this man, but she couldn't remember how for some reason.

Finally, the captain ended his lengthy oration with, "And it is with this great honour that I introduce our new Lieutenant-Commander, Ian Jameson McAllister."

As soon as his name escaped the captain's lips, Deryn stiffened with recognition.

This man was her bloody neighbour! Ian had lived across the street from her parents in Glasgow since before Deryn was even born. Deryn's father had taught Ian how to fly before her, sometimes all three of them going up together. He wasn't much older than Deryn, maybe twenty three by now. They had been close family friends all their lives, until Ian had gone and joined the military.

Apparently he'd done well.

_ Brilliant,_ she thought to herself, _if anyone else is going to figure me out, it'll be Ian._

Alek seemed to notice her tense, and he gave her an inquisitive look. "What's the matter?" he whispered.

She debated whether to tell him the whole truth. "That name just seems familiar to me, that's all."

Ian McAllister took three massive strides up to the captain, dwarfing the man. He saluted smartly, then turned on his heels to face the crew.

"God's wounds he's a tall one!" Alek whispered.

"Lofty," Bovril chimed in.

"Seven foot three, actually." Deryn confirmed.

Alek gave her another look, "How do you know for sure?"

Deryn swore under her breath, "Let's just say we're already acquainted."

The new Lieutenant-Commander saluted and addressed the crew: "Good morning to you all. As you know, I have been recruited as the new Lieutenant-Commander aboard the wonderful and legendary Leviathan, which was probably a huge mistake." This generated a chuckle from the crew.

Ian's voice was instantly recognizable to Deryn, removing all doubt that this was, in fact, the same person she believed him to be. He continued on in his deep, Scottish accented voice that was slightly scratchy from years of shouting orders:

"Now, obviously because I'm new here, I'd like to be acquainted with all of you eventually, although I'm not known for my name remembering ability. But, I do know some of you already *cough* Rigby *cough*." Another laugh spread around the crew, with Mr. Rigby sarcastically waving in acknowledgment.

Ian continued: "So what I propose to do is initiate a sound off. Just go down the line and state your name and rank, from left to right, if you please."

Deryn took in a slow breath as the first person clicked their heels far down the first row to her right and saluted, saying, "Midshipman Carlisle, at your service!"

This could end up being quite a bad situation. Was Ian still a family friend, or was he perpetually loyal to the military, and spill the beans about her secret? If he chose to now, it'd be in front of the entire crew, and that would be quite a way to go.

"Midshipman Newkirk, sir!"

"Congratulations for the award." Ian said, nodding.

"Thank you sir!"

The second row began to sound off, making Deryn evermore nervous with every passing second.

The crewmember at the end of the second line saluted, "Sub-Lieutenant Clarkson, at your service, sir." That meant Deryn's line was next.

She felt herself begin to sweat. Alek again noticed, "Oh relax, he probably won't recognize you. You'll be fine."

_ Right_, she thought to herself as she nodded with feigned agreement to Alek.

"Maschinenbauingenieur Hoffman, an Ihrem Service."

_ Mechanikal Engineer Hoffman at your service._

"Maschinenbauingenieur Bauer, an Ihrem Service."

_ Mechanikal Engineer Bauer, at your service._

"Meister der Mechaniker, Otto Klopp, an Ihrem Service.

_ Master of mechaniks, Otto Klopp, at your service._

Ian wore a slightly perplexed look as the Austro-Hungarian crewman addressed themselves, but it disappeared as he seemed to recall something forgotten.

"Wildcount Volger, at your service." The count bowed at the waist.

"Pleasure," said Ian as he touched the brim of his hat. His gaze kept flickering back to the count after the introduction.

"Aleksander Ferdinand, sir."

The raven on Ian's shoulder tipped its head slightly at Alek's name, then seemed to whisper something into his ear. The two exchanged a few words before Ian bowed at the waist, his hand on his chest, "It's an honour, your highness."

Alek nodded back, meaning it was time for Deryn to sound off.

She built up her courage, clicked her heels, and said, "Midshipman Dylan Sharp, at your service."

The wind was the only sound audible on the spine of the Leviathan as the new Lieutenant-Commander studied Deryn's face and features. Confused recognition perforated through all other emotions in his facial façade of control. After squinting and moving his head forward slightly, an incredulous grin spread across his clean shaven face.

"Hello, Mr. Sharp. I assume you aren't able to salute?" he said, indicating her sling bound right arm.

"Apologies, sir, I've had a few…mishaps."

Ian turned to the captain. "Would it be alright if I talked with Mr. Sharp sir? I would like very much to discuss these 'mishaps' after breakfast in my office." The captain nodded in approval. He turned to face the teens again. "If his royal highness doesn't mind, I'd like him to attend as well; after all, I've heard a great deal about you two." He said as his eyes flicked back and forth between them. Ian winked at Deryn, a smile on his face.

"And who's this lovely lady?" Ian said politely as he turned to address Dr. Barlow.

"Oh you're too kind Ian." the boffin said as she put her hand to her chest and sarcastically turned to look at the sky.

"It's good to see you again, Dr. Barlow." Ian said with a sincere smile.

"And you." Barlow said in kind.

Deryn and Alek exchanged confused glances, and a ripple of chuckles burbled through the crew.

"We'll ask about it later…" Deryn whispered as she grinned.

OOOOO


	4. Chapter 4

Alek poked at his egg with his fork, chasing the mass of food around his plate. It was the only food item left on his plate, and he didn't feel the need to force feed himself. He was too busy thinking, about Deryn.

What would Volger say if he found out? And what about the situation of Deryn being a commoner? Only now did he begin to understand what his father went through.

His feelings for her were extremely strong, yet alien at the same time. It replaced the emptiness that his parents' deaths had created, but he'd never felt anything quite like this before.

His own father may have had the same internal conflict with himself years ago when he met mother. Only Father had a way to make sense of these things, and the horizon was evermore bleak looking and foggy for Alek. He just couldn't fathom how Count Volger and his father could have planned ahead so far to keep Alek safe. Alek had trouble planning out one day; then again, his life _had_ taken some drastic turns in a very short span of time.

_ Volger._

The count did seem to notice things about Deryn, things that no one else seemed to pick up on.

Deryn _was_ better at fencing the last time Alek took her to the spine. Maybe she'd been taking lessons from Volger, and he'd noticed some aspects. But why would she _voluntarily_ take lessons from Count Volger?

A hearty laugh spread amongst the crew at the long table in the mess hall, interrupting Alek's thought. The prince gazed down the length of the table to where the sudden disturbance seemed to originate from. At the head of the table sat the giant new officer. His eyebrows were raised as high as they could go, and his mouth hung wide open as he roared with laughter, the men all around him banging the table with their fists or leaning back on the benches. One of the poor crewmen was caught with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. After a few attempts to take a drink, he set it back down on the table, content to laugh for now. Alek witnesses one of the officers actually fall off his place and land on the ground, his legs still on the bench. This refreshed the uproar as the Scot pointed at his downed comrade. By this time crewman at the other tables had turned, most beginning to join the ruckus. Deryn, who was sitting at one of those other tables, looked up from trying to cut her food with only the use of one hand, and joined in the laughter.

The Scottish officer helped the officer back into his place. It was Mr. Rigby, his face beat-red as he continued to cackle. Alek found himself smiling.

"Quite a rowdy bunch, aren't they?" came the voice of Bauer who sat across from Alek.

"I almost wish that would happen at the formal dinner parties I've been to." Alek said, chuckling. "At least they get to have _fun_. This is why commoners are so entertaining to spend time with."

"Don't let Volger hear you talking like that," said Bauer with a hint of sarcasm present on his voice, "He might look down his nose at you." The corporal then perfectly impersonated the count's voice and said, "Now what did I tell you about messing about with commoners?"

Alek found himself laughing at the tease. "I never knew you were comical Bauer. You should be like this more often!"

"All I need to do now is speak English fluently, and I'll be set!"

"Then you'll have to compete against him," Alek pointed down the table at Ian, who was still chuckling.

"Then I've no chance." Bauer said with a smile.

"You'll get there. You just need stilts."

Bauer tipped his head to the side and nodded, "True, true."

Alek glanced to the side and caught sight of Hoffman, Klopp, and Volger sitting at the end of another table. The master of mechaniks and Hoffman were listening intently to the Count, who sat opposite them.

Volger was obviously agitated with something. He made movements with his hands that indicated the ship, then ones that made him look like he was at the wheel in the bridge, guiding the ship to its next destination. Then Hoffman produced a map, and laid it out on the table in front of them. Volger and Klopp immediately began to argue over it, both of them tapping different locations on it. Volger then pointed toward the windows on the side of the gondola, his other hand making circles above his head.

"They're discussing where the ship is headed next," Bauer said. He too had turned to watch them argue. "We've all noticed the sun's position changing."

"Where do _you_ think we're going?" Alek asked.

Bauer turned, then smirked. "_I_ think we are en route to Ypres. The ship's been on that course ever since we left Constantinople, aside from picking you up, sir, and the Midshipman in the middle of Germany. Ypres is the sight of an ongoing battle as of now, and I think the Leviathan has some much-needed supplies for the Darwinists." Bauer shrugged, "That's my guess, sir. Of course, Volger believes that we're headed to Mons, and Klopp says that we'll stop off in Belgium."

Alek thought for a moment, then said, "I'd say somewhere around France. Of course, I _have_ been in the sickbay for a month, so I haven't had any clear indications as to where we're going."

Bauer smiled at a crew member who had glanced over at the two talking. "It's a good thing they don't know how to speak German," he said through his teeth, not taking his eyes off the Englishman.

"I'd be willing to bet a few of them do. They're not as stupid as they act." He looked around, then leaned toward Bauer, and said in a soft voice, "That Dr. Barlow speaks German as well as one would if they grew up in Germany. Watch what you say around her."

"Will do, sir." Bauer said, nodding slightly.

A wave of collective moans of disappointment came from the same group of crewmen at the end of the table. Alek looked, and saw the new officer leaving the table.

"Oh quit your whining! I'll be back at lunch you sods!" he said as he walked away.

"But we all love you so much sir!" came the voice of a random crewman.

The Scot turned, "Aye, but there's only one of me! I'm a bit outnumbered at the moment!"

This generated a cheer and a few random '_whoops_' from the crew.

"I suppose he's headed to his office now," Alek said, "I should probably get ready for whatever he has in store for Dylan and me."

"Sounds like a plan to me, sir," Bauer said.

…..

Alek's crutch clacked on the fabricated wooden floor as he walked. The ever present message lizard tubes fanned out in every direction, mostly into and out of the officers' quarters. They glinted in the sunlight streaming in through windows on the right side of the small hallway. The ranks of the officers who resided in the quarters were printed on the thin, sturdy fabricated doors themselves. As Alek passed them, their ranks rose in importance.

Sub-Lieutenant.

Left-tenant.

Lieutenant.

The next door was the Lieutenant-Commander's.

"_Mr._ Sharp," Bovril said. He didn't seem at all fazed by Alek's awkward gait.

Alek returned his gaze to where he was headed, and found Deryn was already standing outside the officer's door.

"About time you showed up," she chided. "Been standing here all my life."

She reached out to stroke the loris.

"A bit apprehensive, aren't we?" Alek asked, detecting the anxiety in her voice.

"Aye…I suppose a little," she shrugged.

"Why? Didn't you notice him _smiling_ when he heard your name?"

Deryn gave him a hard look, "I don't know if he's dead chuffed to see me, or he knows he'll gain something because he already knows who I am."

"Ah, I see. When does he want to see us?" Alek asked.

"Oh, he told me to bring you in as soon as you got here." She knocked twice, then turned the door handle. "Shall we?" She said, sweeping her hand past herself. "Princes first."

Alek snorted, then hobbled through the open door.

The room that lay on the inside was quite a sight to behold. Bookshelves that lined the wall were stuffed with books of all dimensions and ages. The shelves themselves seemed to be hanging from the ceiling, as if they had been nailed to the ceiling. The room was warmly lit by a dozen glow-worm lamps, and smelled slightly of the sweet aroma of whiskey.

Then a glint caught his eye.

His eyes fell upon a bladed weapon that Alek had heard of, but never seen for himself: a Scottish claymore. He'd seen German bastard swords, but they were said to pale in comparison to the balance and power of monstrous weapons like this one. The claymore on the wall was practically as tall as Alek, prompting him to wonder how anyone managed to use one in combat. He imagined himself pitted against a foe with the strength to wield such a weapon. Not a good position to be in.

He was distracted from his momentary lapse of awe by a strange sound. His eyes followed the ambiance until he caught sight of Ian sitting at his desk, playing the strangest musical item. It seemed to be nothing more than a wooden blowpipe with a fingerboard, almost like a recorder. The mouth blown instrument made a sound most similar to that of a duck, except, of course, the tone was more musically refined, and it didn't have the same guttural vibrations as the animal's calls. The music Ian played required incredibly quick finger movements, and had a lively beat to it, to which Ian tapped his foot.

Deryn seemed to recognise the instrument, as she had smiled when she first walked in. Alek gave her an inquisitive look.

"It's called a practice chanter you ninny!" she whispered.

Alek noticed her foot tapping in unison with Ian's. Whatever it was, Deryn seemed to be familiar with it already.

"Been around these before, have you?" Alek said, his eyes not straying from the…practice chanter.

Deryn gave him a tired look, "Well obviously. Ian's my neighbour, remember?"

"Yes, but what is this…object _for_?"

Deryn answered without turning to him, "Ian's a piper."

The time signature in whatever Ian was playing changed suddenly, a bit slower now, but still lively.

"You mean, as in bagpipe player?" Alek asked.

"Aye. What of it?"

Alek smiled, "Must have been entertaining to have him as a neighbour." He imagined people boarding up their windows to escape the sound of the adjacent house.

Deryn shook her head and smiled again, "It was actually quite a good thing. He's been playing as long as I can remember. But he always respected his neighbours. Not that they didn't like his playing; he's one of the best."

Deryn's foot never strayed off the beat, even when she was talking. Alek noticed her smile and nod; Ian had noticed them, but he kept playing.

A smile crept across Alek's face. He turned to Deryn, "Do you know the name for bagpipe in German?"

"And why would I know something like that?" She whispered back.

"Try dudelsack."

"D-dudelsack?" Deryn said, beginning to giggle.

"You English speakers always find that so funny…" Alek said.

Suddenly, he began to play an extremely complicated sounding piece of music. Glancing up at Deryn, he gestured with his eyebrows. Deryn shook her head.

Ian stopped playing, frowned and asked, "And why not?"

"Well, sir, the…mishaps…weren't that long ago, and, I just don't feel up to it, sir."

"Oh very well, Mr. Sharp." He leaned back in his chair and said, "How was that last set Ramsey?"

"The transition from the strathspey was a bit awkward, and you half-birled in the fourth part of the reel, but other than that, quite a smooth run through I'd say." A voice said from seemingly nowhere.

"Ramsey," Bovril whispered.

Deryn and Alek scanned the room, but no one else was present.

"Where are my manners?" Ian mumbled, "Mr. Sharp, your highness, I'd like you to meet Ramsey." Ian held out his hand to his side. The raven that had been sitting on his shoulder earlier that day fluttered from an unseen perch onto Ian's desk.

It took two skipping steps sideways, bowed, and said, "Your Serene Highness Prince Aleksander of Hohenburg, and Midshipman Dylan Sharp, my name is Ramsey, and I'm pleased to meet you both."

The bird had a very posh English accent, and held a demeanour of importance about him. His voice was uncannily deep for that of a raven, much like how unexpected a message lizard's voice was when it delivered a message.

Alek was stunned. That bird was _talking_!

"P-pleased to meet you too," Alek finally managed to sputter.

"Ah, so _you're_ Ramsey. I've been wondering who Ian was blathering about at times. Good morning by the way." Deryn said.

The bird bowed its head slightly, "And good morn' to you."

Ian suddenly started. Standing, he asked, "Would our guests like anything to drink?"

He opened a medium-sized cabinet behind him to reveal shelves of spirits and all manner of fine alcoholic beverages. A mason jar of teabags stood nestled in the corner.

"Tea, I presume?" The Scot said, grabbing the jar.

"Yes please, sir," Deryn said.

"Your highness?"

"I would appreciate that very much, sir."

"Ramsey?"

"Well, if you insist, I'll take a gander at that aged single-malt Scotch," Ramsey said as he strained for a better view. "The slender bottle."

Ian took three tea cups and a very old looking glass bottle off the bottom shelf and placed them on his desk. He then picked out a shot glass and set it on the wooden surface in front of the raven.

Alek glanced at Deryn, who wore an expression as confused as his own.

_ A bird that drinks? What is this world coming to?_ Alek thought to himself.

"We can talk while this warms," Ian said as he set a kettle of water on one of the engine exhaust heated burners. He took only a couple strides to get back to his desk, where he proceeded to pour Ramsey a small amount of the honey-coloured liquid.

Ian suddenly started again, as if something had startled him. "I'm certainly on a roll today with my manners aren't I?" He indicated two chairs. "Please sit."

Alek brought his over so that he sat across from the giant officer.

Ian put his feet up on the desk and leaned back in his chair and looked at them sideways.

"So," he began,

"Tell me about these mishaps."


	5. Chapter 5

Ian listened to Deryn and Alek tell the tale of their ordeal, only interrupting occasionally to ask a question or shake his head in disbelief. They told it as thoroughly as they could remember it, of course, leaving out the part of their secret romance afterward.

Deryn began to feel herself tear up at the thought of that young German boy she had to kill and the face of the German officer who intended to take her life. Their expressions were imprinted into her mind; the boy's fear, and the officer's stone cold glare sent shivers down her spine.

As soon as they finished, Ian shook his head and said, "Seven mounted soldiers… And you killed six between the two of you?"

The teens nodded.

"Then Newkirk saved you both?"

Another nod.

He whistled. "This needs to go into the military hero books. Must have been quite an event on the ship."

"Aye, everyone was worried. Even Count Volger," Deryn said.

At the count's name Ian slowly took his feet off the desk, and sat straight up in his chair, a devious look on his face.

"_The_ Count Volger?" He glanced at Alek, "As in Wildcount to your father, the Archduke Franz Ferdinand?"

Alek nodded, "The very same. He's here on the ship if you'd like to meet him."

Ian stroked his chin and stared off into space. "Yes, of course, I was wondering why his name sounded so familiar. I'd like very much to meet him. They say he's nigh on unbeatable in a sword match." A wide grin suddenly spread on his face. "They've also told me that." He chuckled. "I haven't seen him in years…" he said almost to himself, "this could be mighty interesting."

Deryn shot a confused glance at Alek.

"Alek, I'd like to be…re-introduced to this Count Volger as soon as possible," he said with a wink at the young prince.

There was a noise from outside the door; muffled voices with tones that indicated that, whoever it was, they were short on time.

Ian looked at his watched and said, "And we're out of time. Actually, I should say you're out of time."

"What do you mean by that sir?" Deryn asked.

"Have you forgotten already? You're up to get some new metal." He stood, put his hands on his desk, and leaned in towards Deryn.

"And Sharp," he said in a hushed voice, "I think what you're doing is brilliant, Deryn." he smiled and winked as he picked up the empty teacups.

"You two should be proud of yourselves," Ramsey said with a bow.

"Proud," Bovril said.

Someone rapped on the door.

"Enter," Ian said.

Newkirk burst into the room, then saluted. "Midshipman Newkirk, sir, here to escort Mr. Sharp and his highness to the lounge stage for awards procedures."

"Well, get to it then. I'll be on my way down in a bit; I just need to change into something." Ian said as he cleared away the rest of the cups.

…..

Deryn and Alek followed Newkirk down the hallway, barely able to keep up.

"Cripes, man, slow down a little! Poor Alek's going to hurt himself!" Deryn said.

Newkirk stopped and turned, "Sorry Mr. Sharp and your highness…I'm just a bit excited, that's all."

"We've noticed," Alek said, panting.

"Nervous," Bovril said, not even fazed by Alek's gallop.

"The loris can read me," Newkirk said, shaking a bit.

Deryn found herself chuckling. "So you can go to war, and not even sweat, yet you can barely speak straight because of a few barking officers and crewmen?"

Newkirk just huffed and turned to continue walking, a bit more slowly this time.

A little while later, Deryn spotted two figures standing on either side of the hall up ahead. One she recognized as Hoffman, but the other looked disturbingly similar to…Alek?

The two were engaged in a lively conversation until Deryn and Alek were nearly upon them, at which point they both saluted.

"Bauer?" Alek said, confusion permeating his voice.

"An Ihrem Service junger Meister," Alek's could-be twin said.

_ At your service, young master._

The man did resemble the Austrian corporal, with his black hair, wide smile, and Roman nose, but Deryn couldn't see why he looked so alien at this moment.

Wait…

"Wohin ist Ihr Schnurrbart gegangen?" She asked.

_ Where has your moustache gone?_

Bauer looked at her, and smiled, "I…have shaved," He said in broken English.

Deryn was slightly startled at the man's use of the new language, and it must have showed, for he smiled again.

"I…have been….practicing my, er, English." Bauer's Austrian accent was extremely thick whenever he spoke.

"You look remarkably like Alek without your moustache. You two could be barking twins!" Deryn said.

"Twins," Bovril chirped.

Bauer chuckled, "I suppose you… are correct." He glanced at Alek, "Shall we?" He said, sweeping his arm toward the end of the hallway.

…..

When the five entered the lounge stage room, they found it packed with officers and crew. The captain stood next to the small stage, to his right was Mr. Rigby, his left, Dr. Barlow.

Everyone in the room snapped to attention, as did the newcomers.

"Please be seated," the captain said, and the room filled with the shuffling of sitting crewmen.

"Midshipman Sharp, Midshipman Newkirk, his royal highness, would you please make your way to the stage?" Said Captain Hobbes.

The three did just that, though one could hardly call it a stage. It more closely resembled an elevated lump of fabricated wood under some carpet.

The captain and Mr. Rigby followed. Once the three were standing in a line shoulder to shoulder on the platform, the captain turned to address the gathered officers.

"Acts of bravery," he began, "Are often associated with what one does in the face of fear or danger. Sometimes, against overwhelming odds or at a disadvantage. There are not enough people in this world that would be willing to do such a thing. If those people faced with these challenges survived, they should, even against their will, be recognized and treated with the utmost respect, for they are a rare breed indeed." He turned to the three young people on the stage. Mr. Rigby handed him two velvet jewellery cases.

"Midshipman Sharp, I hereby award you the Distinguished Service Cross and the Air Gallantry Cross for your brave and selfless actions of October 16, wherein you defended the honour of the Darwinist nations, and the life of your fellow comrades at great risk to your own life. I congratulate you." The captain and Mr. Rigby each pinned one of the medals to Deryn's chest, then clicked their heels, saluting as they did so. Deryn clicked her heels in response.

"Thank you, sir," she forced out of her shock.

As the two officers moved on to Alek, Deryn stood stunned, staring straight ahead.

_ Two medals?_ She thought to herself.

It was true. Two polished, metal awards hung from her coat; she could feel their combined weight pulling her collar tight.

"Prince Aleksander of Hohenburg, I hereby award you Darwin's Medal for Gallantry for your courage and steadfastness in the face of great danger, resulting in the preservation of the life of a decorated officer of the Air Corps. The admiralty send its regards."

Deryn stiffened. That was the highest award given to a civilian that has ever been handed out on the _Leviathan_.

Alek bowed to the officers standing before him, who then made their way down to Newkirk, who received the same two awards as Deryn.

The captain and Mr. Rigby turned to face the crew, the captain's arm outstretched to indicate the medal recipients. The room filled up with a hearty cheer.

But then, Deryn thought she heard a familiar sound permeate the wall of congratulatory shouting. A sound she hadn't heard in years.

She spied Ramsey on a perch in the opposite corner of the room, and her thoughts were confirmed.

Through the doorway to the stage lounge room came marching Ian Jameson McAllister, dressed in his airman's uniform shirt and coat, kilt, sporran, hoes, and gillies on the bottom, playing the pipes. He had to limbo quite a bit to fit his massive body and the drones of his pipes through the doorway, but he played a beautifully written march, and everyone turned to watch the newcomer. He nodded at the captain, who returned a nod of his own.

Ian played while marching back and forth to the side of the stage; the room created a wonderful acoustic effect, making Ian's playing evermore impactful. When he finished his set, the room erupted once again with cheering. Ian saluted the three on the stage.

When the applause had settled once again, the captain made his way to centre stage.

"Gentlemen, this morning I received word that we will be flying over and landing in Belgium for the next few days. We are on our way to France, to help our lines at Ypres by dropping off supplies for the men fighting in the trenches in Gheluvelt." He grinned widely. "We will be landing in Antwerp in a few days where we will be refreshing our own supplies as well as stocking up on supplies for our lines at Ypres. We have a week's surplus rations because of that, and I'm sure you all know what that means..."

The crew sent up a wild cheer, "Double rations!" This was a rarity on the ship, so the crew wouldn't waste it.

"Hungry?" Newkirk said jovially.


	6. Chapter 6

"There, now how does that feel?" Dr. Barlow slowly slid the sling off Deryn's arm.

Deryn made a few circles with her elbow, "Just a bit weak, ma'am."

It was good to get it off though; she'd wanted to make herself useful and help load the supplies onto the ship. It didn't matter that all the cargo boxes were light enough for her to carry them on her own, the bloody lady boffin had insisted she stay out of the way.

Such was the state of events of the past week or so. Alek had graduated to a cane, and Bovril had become quite a companion to Ramsey. Ian had offered to challenge Count Volger to a "friendly sword match", which the count accepted, and offered to facilitate on the ground when they arrived at Ypres.

The _Leviathan_ landed last night, so this morning was the scheduled duel. The whole ship had been abuzz with excitement and activity; even the captain himself would be attending the show.

"Barking spiders!" Deryn exclaimed as she glanced at a clock on the wall, "The duel's in ten minutes!"

She grabbed her canvas bag of her sketching supplies and made for the sick bay doors; maybe she'd get a chance to capture a few stances or poses.

"Won't you be needing your coat?" Dr. Barlow asked, sounding almost like Deryn's mother.

"I'll be fine ma'am; it'll only be a short while." Deryn only wore her a waistcoat over her middy collared shirt and tie.

…..

The only sound that could be heard was the wind and the rustling of leaves on the few remaining evergreen trees on the battlefield. Gheluvelt was absolutely desolate. The only life really was a few small patches of vegetation and the men stuffed into the miles of trenches with only a handful of beasties. The trenches themselves were both impressive and unnerving; the ground near and around Ypres was famous for its underlying foundation of clay, meaning that one could only dig a couple of feet into the ground before their progress would be halted. This problem was "solved" by the extensive use of sandbags piled high and reinforced with wooden walls, most topped with barbed wire. Bodies, barbed wire barriers, and some of the German machines of war lay strewn about in No-Mans'-Land. Craters dotted the surface like the dimples on Newkirk's face.

But the Germans had retreated the previous day; even if it were only temporary, it would be perfect for the Leviathan to dump its supplies to the Darwinists, and help with any reconnaissance needed of course.

And that meant a little extra time for any dithering about that the crew might want to enjoy. And the match between Wildount Ernst Volger and Lieutenant-Commander Ian Jameson McAllister fit into the 'dithering about' category perfectly. Of course, it was by the captain's permission.

By the time Deryn made her way to the designated combat area (By the captain's orders, they didn't want any stray sparks flying around) she discovered that Alek had made his way there before her, along with Bauer and Hoffman, who stood lively conversing with each other. In fact, most of the crew, including Newkirk, were standing in a big ring around the dueling grounds.

Alek grinned and waved Deryn over.

"I've saved a spot for you," he said, stepping aside. They both had a perfect view of what would unfold.

"Who are you betting on?" Deryn asked.

Alek was silent for a moment, then said, "I'm not sure. I've seen only what Volger has taught me; he has never been one to show off. Ian on the other hand is completely new to me; I never even knew he had swordplay experience until we were called into his office. So it's anyone's game," he said, shrugging.

"Game," Bovril chirped in.

"Oh yes, that reminds me," Alek said, "apparently the winner will be decided by who wins the most out of three rounds. Other than that, the rules are simple: obviously no killing the other person, use dulled swords, and don't hurt bystanders."

"Is that all?" Deryn responded half consciously. She was distracted by Volger and Ian walking into the ring of crewmembers.

Neither of the blade masters wore armour. In fact, both of them shed their coats as they made their way towards the centre, Volger handing his off to Hoffman, and Ian to Mr. Rigby, leaving a black T-shirt on Volger, but Ian kept his long-sleeved uniform shirt. Both wore heavy combat trousers and boots. Wouldn't that slow them down a bit?

Nevertheless, Ian wore a large grin on his face. "Count," he said, "It's been too long."

"I agree with that Ian. Far too long." The count's facial expression never changed; he seemed to have the focus of a wolf.

"Oh come now, Ernst, lighten up a bit, mate. This way we'll see if the student has out-practiced the master." Ian said light-heartedly.

"I should hope not, though I have been…preoccupied…with teaching," Volger shot a glance at Alek.

_ We'll see if the student has out-practiced the master…_ The words echoed in Deryn's head. What did Ian mean by that?

"Well, now's a good day to start back into it, eh?" Ian said. "Now let's see the swords you brought."

"Very well," Volger said as he turned. He nodded to Bauer, who brought two sabres into the ring. Volger handed one to Ian, then chose the other for himself.

Ian twisted the sword in his hand, his massive stature making it look like a large knife or dagger rather than a bladed weapon of wars past. He seemed uncomfortable handling such a weapon, but after a few revolutions, his grin had returned.

"Shall we?" he said, falling into a perfect fencing position.

"Whenever you're ready," Volger said as he too fell into his stance.

It was silent for what seemed like ages. The two figures, one dwarfing the other, stood like statues, each one studying the other. The wait was excruciating. A soft breeze blew, creating the only motion in the ring as it softly pulled at articles of clothing.

Somehow, Volger instantly lunged all the way across the ring. Deryn couldn't believe how quickly he'd moved. She'd always reckoned he was nippy, but he seemed a bit old to be moving at that speed.

Ian reacted immediately, parrying four instantaneous blows that erupted from Volger. The count retreated two steps, then lunged again, this time stabbing at the Scot. Ian twisted out of the path of the blade, making a slash of his own as he did so. But Volger brought his blade up, catching Ian's, producing a metallic ring. Ian slid his blade quickly off Volger's, twisted, and faced the count again. Volger recovered, and began parrying as Ian attacked with a speed that Deryn never knew such a body could produce.

"Mein gott," she heard Alek say. "I've never seen such prowess with a sword in my life!"

"Aye, me neither," Deryn said. A constant murmur had spread through the ranks of crewmembers as they watched, and Deryn spied the captain watching, a look of amusement adorning his bearded face.

The fight lasted for a few minutes, neither of the two combatants looking the least bit fatigued. The only hint of strain that was visible were the swollen veins on the count's arms.

Then, the two combatants twisted around each other again, blades flashing. But this time, they stopped. They both let their guards down.

Ian grinned again, "You hit me: right shoulder," he said, indicating his arm.

Volger chuckled, and said, "That was always the one you could never defend properly. But I have to confess, you slashed me right across the belly."

Ian shrugged, "I guess we can call it a draw. I'm more comfortable with a bigger blade anyway."

At this, Volger stood, pondering for a moment, then said, "Let's test that, shall we?"

Ian wore a surprised look on his face for an instant. Volger motioned once again to Bauer, who still bore an uncanny resemblance to Alek without his moustache. The Austrian corporal then brought out two more swords, both quite a bit larger than the Austrian sabres.

_Where are all these swords coming from? _Deryn thought to herself.

"Now that's odd," Alek said.

Deryn gave him an inquisitive look.

"A bigger sword is usually slower, heavier, and clumsier than something like, say, a sabre. So why is Volger agreeing to use one?"

"Beats me," Deryn said, "it doesn't make sense now that you explained it that way."

Ian took his sword, and held it up with a satisfied sigh. "I approve of the choice, Ernst. Albeit you were predictable," he said in a jovial tone.

"You know my preference is with the hand and a halves," Volger said, "I haven't used a broadsword in years, so I might as well choose one that I am comfortable with. And don't call me Ernst."

"Right then. Would you prefer just Volger, or would you like the full banana and go with Ernst Volger, Wildcount to His Majesty the Archduke of Austria-Hungary?" Ian bore another large smile.

"Oh don't waste your breath with pointless titles; Volger will do."

Ian rolled his shoulders, "Would you like to get started?"

"Eager, are we? If you must," Volger replied.

The two swordsmen assumed their positions once again. But this time, their positions had stances that were a bit wider than the last. The combatants now had both hands on the hilts of their swords.

Deryn tried not to blink. She might miss the first move, after all. She now wondered why she'd even brought along her sketching supplies in the first place; they moved too fast for her to even-

They were off again, this time Ian clearing the space between them faster than seemed humanly possible. He brought the blade down with such power and speed that if Volger's own blade wasn't in the way, Deryn surmised that Ian could've cleaved the count into two pieces lengthwise, even with the dulled blade. She was mildly surprised at how well the count handled a sword of this size; it was half as tall as he was.

Ian, on the other hand, wielded his sword with such grace, dexterity, and speed, that it made Volger look like he was struggling.

The Scot landed a few massive blows, all just parried by Volger, before the count twisted around Ian. The Lieutenant-Commander whirled just in time to catch Volger's blade. Ian brushed it aside, twirled the sizeable sword in his hands, and held it an inch or so from the Count's throat. Volger slapped the blade aside with his own blade, and dove back a few feet.

"Getting careless, aren't we?" Ian said, not even out of breath.

Volger chuckled, "I have to thank you for the warm up." He took a deep breath through his nose, then lunged forward again, the two men of great skill colliding once more.

A shadow passed over Deryn's face, and she looked to the sky to see Ramsey circling the fight from the air. She saw his beady, yet intelligent eyes catch sight of her, and he dove to the ground behind her. She offered her hand, and the raven hobbled up her arm onto her shoulder.

"Incredible, aren't they?" He said in his human-like voice.

"Aye, it's quite a sight," Deryn responded.

"Simply marvellous. I haven't seen them fight like this since Ian decided to take up arms. That was almost seven years ago."

A couple surrounding crewmen turned their heads toward the sound of the bird's voice for a moment, then turned back, perhaps assuming it was just another crewmember.

Deryn frowned and turned her head towards the bird. "How old are you, Ramsey, if you don't mind me asking?"

The bird chuckled; he seemed amused by the question. "Alas, even I don't know my true age. You'd have to ask Ian."

"I'll remember that," Deryn said, a bit confused. Shouldn't a bird that talks and drinks be able to remember its own age? Deryn just let it go; she'd just question Ian about it later.

"Excuse me, Mr. Sharp?" Came the captain's voice from behind Deryn.

She jumped at the sudden sound of it; he seemed to have come out of nowhere. She turned, "Yes, sir?"

"Would you mind letting me know of the outcome? I have some things I have to take care of at the moment." he smiled.

"C-Certainly sir." Deryn said. The captain nodded, and turned to walk toward the ship, which hovered just off the ground. She eyed him suspiciously. When did he make his way around the circle of men? She dismissed it, surmising he must've snuck up on her while the duel was heating up.

Deryn turned back to watch the ensuing fight. Several beads of sweat now dotted Volger's forehead, and Ian barred his teeth at times.

Suddenly, the air around Deryn seemed to pop, which was followed by a low, thundering rumble off in the distance in front of her. Ian and Volger immediately halted the match, and looked toward the sound. Some of the men in the trenches began shouting indiscriminately, and a few of the Leviathan's crewmen began sprinting toward the ship.

Deryn and Alek exchanged confused glances.

"What was th-" Alek began, but he was cut off as an explosion clapped their ears, knocking them off their feet. Ramsey took to the sky as Deryn fell. A continuous thunder now sounded, whistling followed occasionally.

Deryn rose to her feet, then was buffeted by another blast. She saw crewmen scrambling up the ladders onto the Leviathan.

One of the men in the trenches yelled, "German artillery! Get the hell out of here! Now!"

Deryn began to painfully make her way towards the ship, her gunshot wounds beginning to complain again. She skidded to a halt as she remembered Alek and his injured leg. She whirled around to find him attempting to stand with his crutch, but fell over again as another shell landed, spraying them with dirt and debris.

The shells were being aimed at the Leviathan!

The ship began rising slowly; the captain had no choice but to take off to save the ship and as many crewmembers as possible.

Bovril took the initiative and sprinted, low to the ground, toward the ship as Deryn helped Alek up. She put his arm across her shoulders, and together they hobbled toward the Leviathan.

"Junger Meister!" came the sound of Hoffman's voice. He and Bauer slid to a halt alongside the duo.

"Here, let us help!" Bauer said. They took Alek and put both arms around their shoulders, lifting the young archduke off the ground.

Most of the Leviathan's crew had made it onto the ship. But shells were detonating perilously close to the beast and the captain dumped ballast in an attempt to escape the deadly shells.

The group stopped, and watched the ship leave the ground, and begin to fly in the opposite direction, engines fully engaged. Deryn felt one of the worst feelings of abandonment in her life, even worse than the one she felt in Istanbul. At least she knew they would be coming back for her then; this may end up being a different story.

Ian and Volger ran to their sides.

"Shit!" Ian swore as he watched the ship leave the ground. His head whipped around, until he shouted over the artillery barrage, "Trenches! Now!" He took off sprinting for them, the group following.

The distance to the trenches felt like a mile to Deryn. The men operating the Clanker guns evidently had them in their sights, and were trying to track their movement.

Finally, they dove into the trenches just as another shell detonated nearby, showering them in mud. That one was too close.

But they had made it.


	7. Chapter 7

"God's wounds!" Alek said as he spat mud and dirt out of his mouth.

"You can say that again!" Deryn shouted over another explosion. Bits of plants and mud rained down on them, and a couple small stones came perilously close to clocking any one of them in the head.

"I would, but I don't enjoy dining on dirt!" he shouted back.

Ian hauled his massive body to a crouch and gazed back at the men following them.

"Oh bloody Nora!" the officer swore. Alek followed the officer's eyes, and witnessed a few stragglers of the Leviathan's crew scrambling toward the trenches amidst great geysers of sediment being hurled into the air by artillery shells.

"What are those men doing out there?!" came a voice Alek didn't recognise. The archduke rose to a crouch, his leg complaining to him, and turned to see a man dressed in a dark infantry uniform. Alek couldn't discern whether the man's uniform was covered in mud, or if it was intended to be that colour. The spats around his boots were completely caked with dirt and grime, to the point that one couldn't distinguish where the spats ended and the boots began. His moustached face looked as though he'd been working in a very dirty chimney all day, and his wide-brimmed British helmet was tipped to one side.

"They fell behind!" Ian said over the artillery. "We were all caught by complete surprise! Damn Clankers never play fair! We're the lucky ones!"

Alek tore his eyes from the newcomer and forced himself to watch the stragglers. If any of the made it, it would be his duty to help them into the trench. Deryn crawled up beside him.

"Is…that who I think it is," she said out of the blue.

"Who?"

She pointed, "That one right there. The one without his cap on. That looks like Newkirk."

Alek caught sight of the one she indicated, and he did resemble the midshipman from a distance. "Funny…he does doesn't he?"

"Strange," she said, frowning, "I could have sworn I saw him head up the ladders when the-" an explosion knocked them back to the ground.

The shells were getting too close now, tracking in a menacing ark towards the trench lip.

"When the Leviathan took off," she finished, rising once again.

As they watched, a shell landed between two of the men, sending their bodies flying in opposite directions. Both landed on the muddy ground, dead and torn apart before they fell. Suddenly, a machine gun opened up, spraying bullets across the already bombarded field. Two more crewmembers went down, one hit in the legs, the other in the chest. The man Deryn believed to be Newkirk, slid to a stop next to the man who'd been hit in the legs, and, much to Alek's surprise, bent down, and threw him across his shoulders.

"Newkirk, what are you doing?!" Deryn said. She began to move forward, but Alek grabbed her by the shoulder.

"Stop! You can't help him!"

She turned to face him, and they stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, neither of them twitching, even when an artillery shell landed nearby.

"I don't want you hurt any more than you have to be," Alek said. "Besides, you're no good to him dead."

"Alright," she said quietly, then returned to a crouch.

A crewman leapt into the trench, rolling as he did so. He was followed by two more. One made it to the lip of the ditch, but the man's head jerked sideways, and his body fell in the same direction, a large part of his skull absent.

"C'mon Newkirk…" Alek heard Deryn say. Shells landed in every possible place on the field now, Newkirk somehow dodging them all.

He finally reached the edge of the trench. "Pardon me!" he said as he jumped in. Ian and a few other crewmembers caught the man that was across his shoulders, but Newkirk succeeded in forming a path through their poised arms and to the ground, where he landed with a solid thump. They laid the wounded man, who they'd gently caught, on the ground.

"Bloody hell! It's quite a mess out there!" Newkirk said, dusting himself off and standing. Ian's hand shoved him back down into a crouch as bullets whizzed by the empty space that his head once occupied.

"Remember to keep your head about you, now," Ian chided, patting the midshipman hardily on the back. Newkirk's eyes were still wide with the sudden shock.

The man he'd saved emitted a short groan with pain. His shins were shot to pieces; blood soaked the lower leggings of his trousers. Alek felt a certain sense of sympathy for the crewmember because he'd been there before. Shot in the legs. Unable to run from danger. Helpless…

"Get that man to the field hospital!" the moustached man said. A few more infantrymen ran forward and lifted the wounded man off the ground.

A sudden and horrifying thought occurred to Alek. He whipped his head around, quickly scanning the area with his eyes.

"Where is Count Volger?!" He glanced at Hoffman and Bauer, who too seemed to notice the count's absence at the same moment.

"I'm here, your highness," came Volger's voice from further down the trench.

The moustached man appeared once again, this time next to the count. He had his head protruding from around a corner of earth and barbed-wire fence.

"Why don't you sods get out of the suicide ditch and follow me?" He said in a thick Welsh accent. "You may just be able to stand up back here where it's deeper."

"Standing sounds lovely. Especially now," Ian said. The group made its way deeper into the surprisingly wide trench with Deryn helping Alek hobble along.

"We need to get you a new barking cane," Deryn said as she and Alek went from a crawl to a stand, Alek leaning heavily on her for support.

"Perhaps the field medic has something?" He asked.

"Probably. They seem to have everything sometimes."

Alek scanned for anyone who may be trained in the field of medicine, but he couldn't spot anyone with any distinguishing marks. Not that he'd be able to see any; the men's uniforms were so covered in grime and mud, that Alek could barely distinguish their individual rank. He'd grown used to the crisp, clean uniforms of the Leviathan's aircrew, so the combat uniforms of the infantry seemed crude, unkempt, and horridly dirty for a moment…

Which didn't come as a surprise to the Austro-Hungarian Archduke, considering the condition of the trenches. He'd always heard the trench warfare was some of the dirtiest and worst to ever be involved with, and he could see how that assumption could be made. The trench was exactly that. A large divot in the ground, filled with mud, filth, spent bullet cases, bloody rags, helmets, and the occasional dead soldier. It was an awful place to be, even for just a few minutes, let alone months like some of the poor fellows here had to endure.

Alek's pant leg caught on a bit of collapsed barbed-wire fencing, and he firmly tugged away as another shell's concussion shook the air.

That was another thing: the amount of debris was immense. Bits and pieces of artillery, shells, fences, fortifications, and god knows what else was strewn about in almost every direction. It was almost too much detail for his mind to take in.

Turning his eyes to the man leading them deeper into the surprisingly intricate trench network, he noticed the soldier walked with a limp. A muddy rag wrapped around his leg just below his knee, stained with the dull red colour of old blood.

"Excuse me, sir?" Alek tried. The man turned.

"You may call me Corporal Briden," he said flatly. His hollow stare stirred Alek's nerves.

"W-where is the medic?"

Corporal Briden silently turned, walked on a few feet to an intersection in the trenches, turned to face them again and indicated with an open hand to the group's left.

"Thank...you?" Alek said cautiously, moving forward with Deryn. The two stumbled around the corner, slipping in the muck.

"We'll be straight down Lowland Way when you're finished." Said the stoic Corporal.


	8. Chapter 8

The field medic's station didn't really deserve to be called anything of the sort. It consisted of a simple wooden structure that resembled a shack roof stuck in the middle of a widened part of the trench. Surrounding the shack were men lying on the ground and on improvised gurneys, while still more stood or sat against the muddy walls. Alek wondered how it was possible to have this many bandages and cloth in conditions like this.

"My god." Deryn whispered. Alek redirected his vision, and it came to rest on a gruesome pile of amputated limbs that looked hastily tossed aside. Alek swallowed, growing slightly sick at the sight.

Through the shelling, which had taken on a steady rhythm, Alek could hear men shouting or groaning, the horrible noises growing ever louder as they approached. Alek began feeling like he'd cause these poor soldiers more trouble than good if he depleted them of anything at all, not to mention an item to assist someone with _walking_.

"Dylan," the prince began, wary of surrounding soldiers, "I think I can manage." He straightened, putting weight on his bad leg. He immediately had to catch himself on the muddy wall as a bolt of pain and weakness shot up his limb. Deryn was there immediately, helping Alek up again, despite her own stifled whimpers of discomfort.

"Quite a pair, aren't we?" Alek asked with a slight chuckle. A shell exploded not too far away, showering them once again in dirt.

"Aye, quite photogenic at the moment," Deryn said. "You sure you can make it without a cane of some sort? You look about as steady as a newborn animal..."

"Then I shall quickly learn to walk, much like a newborn animal does," Alek answered with a reassuring smile. All this talk of mobility brought back to mind the wounded airman from earlier.

"Did you know the man who was shot in the legs earlier?" He asked the midshipman.

"Aye, but not very well." Deryn said, shrugging. "Why?"

Alek began to make his way towards the field medic setup. "I'm curious to see how he is doing." He answered honestly. In truth, Alek wanted to make sure the man was to make a recovery, or at least survive. He didn't want anyone to suffer the same fate he almost did.

Deryn followed him until they were almost upon the structure, then pointed to a figure lying on his back to their right only partly protected by the roof from the intermittent showers of earth following.

"I won't ever understand how you Clankers always use weapons that're so loud and unpleasant," Deryn said, flinching from another deafening concussion.

"You say that as if your weapons are something nice, like firing kittens or something." A grin drew across Alek's face.

"Oh get stuffed." Deryn retorted as they came upon the man.

A lightly stubbled face was hidden by an arm still covered in the thick leather jacket of an airman. It was almost as if the man was trying to hide his identity, or simply shielding his face from the muck flying through the air. Either way, his body language resembled that of a man who had just been demoted, defeated, or transferred to some horrible war outfit. His leggings were still mostly a bloody mess with five neat, randomly spaced holes punched through the fabric.

"Are you alright, sir?" Was all Alek could think to say. The Darwinist, jumped slightly, then pulled his arm away from his face, revealing head of dark, slicked back hair and a pair of brilliantly blue eyes on either side of a sharp nose. It looked as though he were resisting quite a strong urge to shout out in pain with every fibre of his being.

"I think I'll make it," the man said, then glanced between Alek and Deryn. "I'll take after the example you two put on."

"Thank you sir," Deryn said as Alek smiled.

"May…may I shake your hand?" Alek said after a long moment's pause, feeling his ears heat up with embarrassment. He felt like a child meeting some important or iconic figure of society. Of course this man likely would never go down in the history books even though the enormity of his deeds, as well as almost every man surrounding him, should grant him a place there. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, Alek felt a monumental respect towards this man.

"Graham Dunning," the man replied with half a smile, giving Alek a firm handshake.

"One of our finest riggers," Deryn said as she clapped the man on the shoulder.

"Yes, well, I don't know how much use I'll be without my legs, so we'll see," Dunning said solemnly. He glanced at both again, then said "Best you two get moving to a more pleasant place, if there is one in this hellhole."

"At least we can still see the sky," Alek said optimistically. Dunning nodded and the two made their way in the direction from which they came, neither walking well.

…..

Alek and Deryn stumbled down the length of the trench leading away from the field medic station until they came to an intersection. The path crossing in front of them was affectionately named Thames Corridor, while the one they stood on was called Saints' Way, likely referring to the field medic station.

Alek scanned from left to right, trying to determine the right way. What was it that Corporal had said?

"How do we get to Lowland Way?" He asked, knowing full well Deryn probably had no idea either.

"Couldn't tell you," she responded, looking from side to side.

A sudden thought then occurred to Alek, "I would imagine Ian's boots to be quite large, correct? Perhaps we can find his prints in all the muck?"

"Did you think of that all on your own?" Deryn asked grinning.

"Of course not, some fabricated mud told me so." Alek retorted sarcastically, also smiling. He dropped his eyes to scan the ground, but found it was exceedingly difficult to distinguish any sort of pattern or coherent shape in the muck.

"Look there!" Deryn said, indicating a very deep set of oblong imprints. She followed them with her outstretched arm, "And they seem to be heading left."

"Are you sure?" Alek asked, beginning to move to follow them with the midshipman.

"As sure as anyone can be."

They followed the walled-in path as it rounded another corner, winding its way farther away from the battlefield. Alek swallowed as he noticed the walls began to look increasingly ragged, as if some ferocious creature had clawed them out of the ground in some wild fit of anger.

"Are there fabricated creatures just for digging?" he asked.

Deryn looked around at the walls before saying, "Not just for digging, but this doesn't look like the work of any fabs that do."

"Odd," Alek said, "It doesn't look like the work of our machines either."

The path they followed veered right again, so they made their way around, slipping and stumbling all the way.

…..

Alek's eyes saw it first.

He froze, not willing himself to move, just in case the horrible creature was drawn to movement.

"Barking spiders Alek, I nearly ran into-" Deryn began, but was shocked into motionlessness as well.

Down the trench a ways in front of them skulked a terrifying beast. It was larger than a draft horse in both height and length, its bulging shoulders nearly as high as the trench walls. It was tearing at a deer gripped by what resembled human hands with massive claws as it squatted on its hind quarters. The awful head of the creature resembled Tazza's with its long, toothed snout, and perked ears, but it lacked in fur, replaced instead by gruesome, blackish-grey skin. This skin covered the rest of its lean, muscular body, revealing its ribs, veins, and sinews. Upon its back were a row of long, black, shining spines as opposed to tufts of hair.

Alek felt himself begin to tremble; this was worse that he even had nightmares about when told of the Darwinist's abominable creations. "What in god's name is that?" he asked in a shaky whisper, never taking his eyes off the creature.

"I…I don't know," Deryn said, just as faintly.

The creature's ears perked up, and it immediately whipped its head in their direction, growling, or was it more of a low moan? It bared its teeth, which were stained and dripping with the deer's blood.

"Oh shit…" Deryn breathed as the beast lowered the deer to the ground, turning to face them. She pushed Alek back around the corner, "Run! Now!"

Alek's heart felt like it was going to explode with adrenaline. He forgot about his leg all together, moving like a startled rabbit through the trenches, Deryn right on his heels.

The monstrosity emitted a low, mournful howl that sent a blizzard of chills down Alek's spine, even at this speed.

Then they heard the galloping.

Alek turned to see the creature flying around the corner, low to the ground and on all fours, using its claws in the mud to gain better traction. It was hugely fast! They would be caught in no time if something didn't happen, and quickly. The two rounded another corner, both shouting frantically as the beast loped along just behind them.

_Oh thank god!_ Alek thought to himself, spying four infantrymen who turned towards the sound of the two teens' vocalizations. The soldiers took two or three steps towards them, until the beast rounded the corner. They too began running, all except one, who pulled a whistle out of his uniform pocket and piped a shrill pattern of notes. Alek glanced over his shoulder and witnessed the beast sliding to a halt, staggering a bit on its hind legs and covering its ears with its large hands. It let out another moaning cry that shook Alek to his very soul.

Deryn stopped to watch, as did Alek. "Looks like it's-" she began, but was cut off as the creature swung at the crewman, catching him in the side and tossing him against the wall of the trench.

"Never mind!" she shouted, running again. Alek began to follow, but something caught his foot, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. He swore loudly, hearing the creature's ragged breathing once again and feeling its awkward gallop through the ground.

Suddenly, Deryn was pulling on his arm. "Get up you ninny!" She shouted. With her help, Alek sprang to his feet, and sprinted as hard as he could after the soldiers.

_The beast was gaining_.

The two passed more soldiers, who pressed up against the walls in an effort to clear the way.

_It's not enough! _

Soon, dirt began pelting Alek's back as it flew off the wildly flinging claws of the creature.

_It was so close!_

Alek swore and cried out in terror as his feet were swiped from under him. He landed hard on his chest, his momentum causing him to slide a few feet before coming to a halt.

Everything seemed eerily quiet, even through the pounding in his ears from his racing heart. He glanced up, and saw Deryn standing some distance away, a look of pure dread in her eyes.

A wave of hot air that smelled of rotting flesh ruffled Alek's hair, and he froze in absolute terror.

Deryn took a step forward, drawing her rigging knife from her boot. A low, bellowing, mournful growl sounded from just above his head as the beast caught sight of her movement. Alek took the opportunity to try and roll to the side and away from the creature, but he was stopped short as it planted one of its massive clawed hands on his chest. The menace leaned in close to his face, teeth barred, nostrils flaring, and glared into his eyes.

Alek reacted defensively and punched the creature in the nose. It drew its head back with a yell, but only pressed on Alek's chest harder than before, forcing him deeper into the muck. It let out another call, then came at Alek's face, jaws open wide. He barely had enough time to grab each of its jaws in a mad attempt at defending himself. The creature pushed towards him with wild jerks, trying to overpower its prey, but Alek held it back with all the might his adrenaline fueled muscles could muster, the power match pushing Alek through the mud.

Suddenly, Deryn leapt onto its shoulder. She raised her knife to plunge it into the creature's neck, but the beast reacted instantly, throwing its arm up, tossing her off.

It then brought its free arm swinging back down, ready to claw the life out of Alek in one fell swipe. Alek squeezed his eyes shut. . .


	9. Chapter 9

Deryn's head struck something hard when she hit the ground, momentarily disorientating her. "A-Alek…" she garbled, watching helplessly dazed as the beastie raised its giant claw.

Suddenly, the beast's ears perked up, and its claw froze in the air halfway to Alek's face. Through the muffled sounds that Deryn's rattled attic could pick up, there came the sound of bagpipes.

The creature's ears flattened on its head, much like a dog being scolded by its master. It glanced back down at Alek, then back up the trench where the sounds seemed to be coming from and whined.

Deryn stood on shaky legs, struggling to keep her balance. The world began spinning round her and she fell to one knee. "Barking spiders…" she muttered. A drop of something fell into the muck in front of her as she propped herself up on all fours. She winced as she touched the back of her head, and brought around a hand covered in blood. "Brilliant."

The monstrosity was still frozen in its listening position, eyes locked on something further down the trench, ears twitching in different directions. Deryn caught a glimpse of Alek lying on his back, still under the beast's claws, his eyes wide and his skin white as flour. But he was still alive. . .

The sound of bagpipes grew ever louder, and Deryn could at least try and focus on the vibrations a little. The instrument sounded quite powerful with a low, rich, robust sound and sonorous drones. Finally, the man wielding the instrument rounded the corner. He was dressed in an infantry uniform like the rest of the men, but bore a kilt and the markings of the highland regiments. He approached the creature, staring it in the eyes with the same intensity it had sighted Deryn and Alek when they happened upon it, playing something slow, beautiful, and soothing. The beast slowly lifted its hand off Alek's chest, and took a few tentative steps backwards. As soon as it was clear of Alek, the piper began playing a march, and the creature began loping away back the way it came, looking like a defeated hunter.

"You alright there lads?" came a man's voice from behind Deryn. She turned to find a young soldier rubbing his side, his helmet in one hand.

"For the most part, I think," Deryn said, feeling her head begin to throb. "What in blazes was that thing?"

"_That_, my young friend, was a war chimera." He said as he brushed some dirt off his shoulder.

Deryn's eyes widened. She'd only ever heard obscure references to studies on fabricating species for war, the most famous by far being the Russian fighting bears. But war chimeras were supposed have been a failed experiment in the early days of genetic modification, and yet she and Alek nearly had their bums bitten off by one just a moment ago.

"But what the bloody hell is it _for_?" Deryn asked.

"Actually, it's a _they_."

"There's more of those horrible things?" Deryn inquired, growing uneasy.

"Yes, but they're well looked after, and kept locked up. We keep them in the fighting bear enclosures," The young soldier scratched the side of his face and gave a sideways look at the ground. "I'm not entirely sure how that one managed to escape. . ."

"But why did it attack us?" Alek squeaked, finally rising from the mud.

"Well, a couple explanations come to mind. First off, you interrupted it while it was feeding, and they are legendarily ill-tempered in that regard. Second, judging by your accent, it probably picked up on the scent it was bred to seek out. It's only lucky Jock was so close by."

"Jock?" Deryn inquired.

"Oh, yes. He's the piper you just saw. I say it takes balls harder than Clanker metal to be a war chimera keeper." The soldier said with a shudder.

Deryn thought for a moment. "So the pipes are really just like a command whistle?"

"One could make the connection, yes," he agreed, "but command whistles happen to only stall them for a while. The scientists that fabricated them found that only an instrument of war, like the pipes, can control them."

"It's bred to smell out Germans?" Alek said, the horror still present in his voice.

"Precisely." The soldier gave Alek a suspicious look. "Is that in fact what you are? Who are you anyway?"

"Well I am not German, if that's what you mean."

"He's on our side," Deryn piped in, raising the 'don't do anything stupid' hand gesture at him. "That being sorted, who are you?"

"Private George Allan." He said, offering his hand. "But you can just call me Allan."

Deryn took it and said, "Midshipman Dylan Sharp, and this here is Alek."

"And what exactly is it that you do, Alek?" Allan said, shaking the archduke's hand.

"A little bit of everything I suppose," he said. "Mostly avoiding becoming dinner."

They all had a little laugh, but Deryn's was cut short as the pain in her head intensified. Alek seemed to notice her cringing and putting her hand to the wound once again.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"Aye, just hit my head is all."

"May I take a look?" Allan asked. "I'm training to become a medic out here, seeing as we keep losing them."

"I don't see why not," Deryn said, turning. "How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

Allan made his way over to her, and began to investigate. "Nineteen." He said simply.

"Wow," Deryn said, "Pretty barking young for trench warfare."

"Actually, I'm right in the middle out here. Most don't make it to my age unless they're already older." He prodded, making Deryn wince. "As I suspected: you have a small laceration, and probably a minor concussion. Nothing too serious, but you'll have a bump on your head for a while."

"Perhaps a helmet would be useful," Alek said, mocking Deryn.

Allan thought for a moment. "Actually, that's not such a bad idea, considering you'll likely be here for quite some time. We need all the help we can get."

"There's really no way for an airbeastie to land here now," Deryn agreed.

"Unfortunately." Allan sighed as he walked past the two. "Follow me please, and try not to find anything else to rile up."

…..

It was two more weeks before Alek could walk properly, two weeks that seemed unnecessarily long to Deryn due to lack of sleep. Snoozing on the Leviathan, even with its loud Clanker engines was one thing, but getting any shuteye while the world around her was constantly exploding was simply impossible. The best she, or anyone, could do was curl up against the muddy wall and try to stay warm enough to see daylight the next day. The only bits of sleep she survived on came about after she unconsciously began to time the seconds between when a shell would be fired, and when the earth-shaking concussion could follow.

It was now the beginning of November, and winter was definitely setting in. Even when huddled between Alek and Ian's body masses, she still reckoned she shivered like a loose ratline in the wind. The only supplies available to the newcomers were weapons, no extra clothing, boots, or socks. Just barking helmets and weapons. The Clanker forces cut off the Darwinist's supply chain over a month ago, which was part of the whole reason that the Leviathan had even considered stopping at such a horrible place. The poor foot soldiers had little food and water, almost no medical supplies (as they later found out), and only four war chimeras left.

Deryn finally gave up. She wouldn't be able to sleep tonight through the shelling. Besides, it was so barking _cold_. She quietly rose from where she'd made herself into a ball and slung her rifle over her shoulder. A shell exploded not too far away, showering her for the thousandth time in a downpour of dirt, small pebbles tapping her helmet like hail on a tin roof. "Barking Clankers," she murmured, her breath visible in the moonlight.

No wonder nearly all the men stationed here were about as alive as granite statues. They'd been enduring this awful shelling day and night ever since they were ordered to protect the French border from the Kaiser's advancing armies. Death surrounded these men, and it was a burden they would carry for the rest of their likely short lives. The psychological effects of watching your comrade be blown apart by an artillery shell was debilitating to say the least.

Deryn carefully picked her way through the narrow trench, trying not to disturb soldiers catching what little sleep they possibly could. She headed towards a dead end spot known in the trench known as "The Haven" for its distance away from shelling targets. She passed two soldiers sitting with their back to the trench wall, both only glancing at her for a second before averting their eyes again back to whatever they were staring at before as if resisting eye contact would make it easier to accept her death if it should come. Another man was slumped against the side of the trench smoking. As Deryn approached, she realized he had no legs. He also looked up at her, then gave her a sad smile before returning to his contemplative state.

Deryn shuttered. Always being aware of the risk of turning into a fireball seemed like a minor thought when compared with these poor buggers in the trenches. At least one might be able to see the fireball coming, but most of these guys probably never knew what hit them. It was a horrible business, war.

Two minutes later, she'd made it to the haven. Deryn closed her eyes, and took in a long, slow breath. It was much quieter here, and she wasn't showered with dirt whenever a shell would hit the ground. She sat down with her rifle across her lap, and shut her eyes again. She tried to remember what it was like to fly, whether in a Huxley, or on the Leviathan, feeling the cold wind on her face, the humming of the ship's membrane beneath her feet, the sounds of all the beasties scampering or fluttering about, being startled by message lizards-

"Feeling contemplative are we, Mr. Sharp?" came a voice.

Deryn jumped up, rifle in hand, "Who's that?!" Nobody was there. . .

"Calm yourself, sir, it's a friend."

"Aye, but where are you?"

"Look left." The voice said tiredly.

Deryn followed the sound until she came upon a raven on the trench lip. "Ramsey?"

"The one and only." The raven said with a small dip of the head.

Deryn took a shaky breath. "You scared the clart right out of me." She lowered her rifle and sat back down.

Ramsey fluttered to the ground next to her, making a couple sideways hops as he landed.

"Where've you been these last couple weeks?" Deryn asked curiously. She'd almost forgotten his absence, although, there were plenty of things out here to distract her from her thoughts.

"I've been quite a busy bird," he said, "Immediately after you were shelled into the trenches, I flew away to stay safe. I wasn't certain whether I'd be hit by a shell, or if the Leviathan would be struck by one. In either case, I didn't want to end up a pile of feathers, or cooked."

One of the war chimeras howled in the distance. "Those barking creatures are never quiet for long." Deryn said shuttering at the awful sound.

"True, but that's only because they smell Germans."

Deryn nodded in agreement.

"As I was saying before, after the Leviathan had cleared the shelling, I met up with Ian in the trenches to discuss a course of action. I returned to the Leviathan as fast as I could find it." The raven looked up at Deryn. "They're slowly circling the battlefield, staying quite out of range of course, but I'm afraid they've gathered some disturbing intelligence."

Deryn's ears perked up, and another howl admitted from the war chimeras.

"The Germans have sent along a line of walkers. They'll be here tomorrow."

"Wonderful," Deryn said, but she wasn't really paying close attention.

The shelling had stopped.

Deryn pulled back the bolt on the rifle, confirming there was a bullet in the chamber. "Something's happening." She said, slowly rising.

_Click._

Deryn froze. "Best you get out of here Ramsey."

"I agree," Ramsey said, hopping a few feet then taking to the sky, leaving Deryn alone in the Haven.

_Click._

She tightened her grip on her rifle, and peered toward the wall of the dead end.

_Click._

That's where the sound was coming from.

_Click._

This time, the sound was followed by what sounded like barbed wire recoiling and bouncing on itself. There was a maze of barbed wire set up in No Man's Land between the opposing trenches.

"Oh no," Deryn breathed. She realized the clicking noise was the sound of wire-cutters eating away at the protective barbed wire border of the trenches.

_Click._

She peered over the lip of the trench, searching through the darkness, trying to locate the source of the sound.

_Click._

There! She could just make out a group of dark shapes low to the ground. She retrieved her command whistle from her pocket, and held it in her mouth whilst taking aim with her rifle.

"Barking Clankers," she murmured. She squeezed the trigger, and the rifle bucked against her shoulder, its discharge loud and piercing in the sudden quiet. One of the shapes toppled over, and she heard yelling.

Clanker talk.

She dropped back down in the trench, and sounded the general alarm. She didn't know whether or not the message would be clear in the trenches, seeing as it was the airship's version of the general alarm, but that, along with her rifle shot, should at least gain the attention of the other soldiers.

Deryn racked another round and stood to fire, but the dirt around her face was thrown up as bullets narrowly missed her. She dropped back down, swearing. She decided the best course of action was to come back with more soldiers; she was only one skinny midshipman with a rifle after all.

She tore back the way she came, slipping and sliding around the corner. At least she wasn't cold anymore.

"Germans in the Haven!" she shouted. Evidently, the noises she'd made had gained the attention of the rest of the soldiers, for they were all bustling about. Five crewmembers broke off from the rest of the hive of activity and ran in her direction.

"Go! Get to the Haven!" they shouted. Deryn rounded the corner again, and skidded to a halt. A soldier dressed in a long, dark coat and spiked helmet fitted over a gasmask landed on the ground in black boots. In one gloved hand he held a pistol, while in the other was a strange metal cylinder.

With no time to think, Deryn fired from the hip, the bullet slamming into the soldier's sternum. He hit the wall behind him then slumped to the ground, the cylinder rolling out of his hands.

Another German appeared over the lip of the trench. Deryn pulled back the bolt on her rifle to reload, but the German fired his pistol first. She felt the bullet whizz past her ear.

"Blisters!" She swore, shoving the bolt forward again. She fired from the hip just as another German appeared next to the one who had shot at her. She caught the first one in the shoulder, sending him spiraling and yelping. The second wielded a much larger weapon, reminding her of a gun she'd seen before. . .

"Machine gun!" She shouted, but it was too late. Three of the Darwinist soldiers made it around the corner, just in time to catch the spray of bullets with their bodies, inadvertently shielding Deryn from death.

"Bastard!" she swore at the man. She lifted her rifle and fired, hitting the man between the goggles on his gasmask, shattering one of the lenses. His head jerked, finger still planted on the trigger, and an arc of bullets sprouted from the muzzle of the heavy, water-cooled gun as he tumbled backwards.

She heard commotion behind her, and turned to see more Darwinist soldiers losing to Germans in hand to hand combat. "No!" she shouted, reloading and taking aim.

Two Germans heard her, and they turned to face her, their rifle's bayonets covered in fresh blood. Deryn fired, catching one in the neck. Evidently, the bullet didn't stop on its path of destruction, and plunged itself into the chest of the second. She leapt over the first Clanker, who writhed on the ground and made horrible gurgling noises. The German with the chest would was still strong enough to take aim at her with his pistol.

_Not this time!_ She thought to herself, inverting her rifle and bringing the metal-plated butt down hard on the German's helmet. The Clanker's head twisted sideways, and Deryn felt his neck give out.

A shout in German came from behind her, and she turned to see four or five more Clankers, all dressed the same way, all ready to fire at her.

Suddenly, a shadow descended over Deryn, then the group of Germans, who began to frantically shoot into the space over Deryn's head. A massive, dark shape landed on them, scattering them like bowling pins.

A war chimera!

Deryn turned away from the carnage it wreaked upon the men, and headed back to where she was trying to sleep earlier. She hoped they weren't caught by surprise!

But sure enough, when she came within sight of where the group bedded down for the night, all her confidences were restored. Ian and Volger had sharpened the swords they were dueling with, just in case they would come in handy. It was good that they did; both used them to devastating effect. Newkirk bayonetted anything that had a pointy helmet, and Alek brandished two pistols, one Clanker, and one Darwinist. Hoffman and Bauer were firing over the trench lip, presumably at approaching Germans.

Just then, a German leapt off the lip of the trench, grabbing Deryn by the shoulders and spinning her to the ground. She rolled to her back and, just as the Clanker raised his rifle to strike her, she fired, catching him under the jaw, lifting his feet off the ground as he fell. "Blisters!" Deryn swore, scrambling to her feet again.

The sound of five pipers reached her ears through all the commotion. That would be the five chimera keepers, spurring on their fabricated beasties against this surprise Clanker attack. Deryn felt it was also quite useful for spurring on soldiers in the face of certain death, reaching deep down into something primordial, animalistic. It inspired the Darwinist troops to battle, and struck fear into the Clanker enemy. The eerie wail and call of the pipes produced some sort of effect no matter which side one was on.

Suddenly, a discoloration caught her attention, and she saw a wall of strange, yellow-ish mist slowly floating towards her from the Haven, instilling a feeling of dread within her.

That's what those canisters must have been!

"Gas! Gas! Gas!" she shouted, bolting away with a renewed vigor.

The Clankers had recently been experimenting with ways to gain an advantage over the fabrications of the Darwinists, and poison gas, although cruel, used much less ammunition.

The foot soldiers assigned to the trenches always had gasmasks on them, but the airmen had no such thing. Deryn tore a mask and tank from a dead German's body then sealed it to her face beneath her helmet, the two designs making it difficult for everything to fit properly. She could barely see a thing through the round goggles, but she reckoned it was better than drowning in your own lung fluid and blood.

Soldiers all around her began frantically strapping on their gasmasks, spreading the warning "Gas! Gas! Gas!" down the trenches. The warning finally reached the ears of the group of airmen, and they reacted instantly, reaching for any gasmask in sight, most being German.

The sun was now beginning to rise over the horizon, bathing the battlefield in faint light.

"They're advancing!" someone cried, and Deryn stopped to peer over the lip of the trench. Sure enough, in the dim moonlight approached a wall of German infantry, all dressed in the same, strange uniforms. They all walked forward slowly, guns at the ready.

"Are they suicidal?" Newkirk said, crawling to her side.

"I'm not sure…" Deryn began, but her voice faded as her eyes came to rest on a long section of irrigation pipe spanning the length of the Clanker trench.

That hadn't been there the night before.

Deryn noticed with a start that the wind was steadily blowing straight at the Darwinist trenches. The pieces began to fall into place, and her thoughts were confirmed a moment later when more of the yellow-ish gas was expelled through the hundreds of tiny holes in the irrigation pipe, skulking straight towards them like a thick carpet of death.

Deryn swore softly. This was the first assault the Germans had made since she was stuck here, and it was as though they were using every new toy in their arsenal. She wondered if the war chimeras were affected by gas. . .

"Wait! What about the pipers?!" She suddenly spouted. The pipers couldn't possibly play with their masks on, so any gas that they breathed would deliver its lethal payload.

Deryn extracted herself from the lip of the trench and bolted towards Ian as fast as she could. Ian had hit it off with the chimera keepers almost immediately, and they had become a steadfast group of friends. Besides, Ian would know where they go to stir up the chimeras, and where they would be at a time like this.

"Ian!" she shouted, the mask muffling her words.

The large man turned away from watching the advancing Germans. "Yes?"

"You've got to warn the pipers about the gas!"

Ian's eyes widened beneath the mask's goggles, and he immediately took off running, his long legs giving him an impressive stride.

Suddenly, the entire trench was engulfed in a thick haze of yellow fog, and all was eerily quiet. Deryn fished in her pack and removed a brick of bullets wrapped in wax paper held together by a string. She opened it and filled her rifle's magazine once more, putting a couple bullets in each pocket for quick access.

The mask made her and everyone else's breathing much more pronounced, and she strained her ears for any clue of the impending attack. She walked back to the lip of the trench, finding a spot next to Alek, who was shoving a clip into the German pistol he'd picked up.

"How're things?" Deryn asked, using a voice that would be better suited to sitting down to tea.

"Everything is just splendid," Alek replied, imitating her tone. He took a deep breath.

A _hmph_ came from Volger, who was on the other side of Alek. "This, Alek, is where you are wrong when you say there aren't many sword fights in war anymore. You must always be prepared, even for the unthinkable."

"I'll keep that in mind," the prince replied.

"What's taking them so long?" a soldier next to Deryn said.

"Maybe they can't see either." Came another voice from further down the line.

Without warning, men much farther down the line to Deryn's left began shouting urgently, and the sounds of random gunshots echoed towards them.

"There they are!" The soldier next to her shouted, raising his rifle.

Deryn peered through the deadly haze, and saw German soldiers brandishing wicked bayonets on their rifles, sprinting towards the Darwinists as fast as they could.

"Make ready to fire lads!" and officer shouted from behind them. The men raised their rifles to their shoulders, each choosing a target.

"Fire when ready!"

The soldier next to her pulled the trigger almost immediately, sending a bullet flying into the line of advancing Clankers. The round hit home, striking one of them in the shoulder, sending him to the ground. More shots followed at random, some missing, some hitting their mark.

Deryn chose a German headed straight towards her. She pulled the rifle firmly to her shoulder, lining up the sights on the enemy's head. She took a long, slow breath, and focused on nothing but her intended target, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet most definitely flew straight and true as the German collapsed like a sack of figs.

She reloaded just before the officer shouted "Get ready boys! Give 'em a good bludgeoning!"

A number of soldiers retreated from the trench lip, preparing for the moment the Germans would overrun the firing line of infantry. That moment was fast approaching.

Alek, Deryn, and Volger peeled themselves away from the trench wall, and joined the soldiers, weapons raised.

It didn't take long before a number of Germans threw themselves into the trenches, some landing directly on the Darwinists' raised bayonets. Both sides began firing at each other at point blank range before reverting to hand-to-hand combat.

Deryn fired at a German that had jumped over the wall like some animal pursuing its prey, knocking him out of the air as Alek fired both pistols at a Clanker who'd joined another in engaging Volger with their bayonets. Deryn turned and narrowly missed a German's bayonet thrust, the blade slicing her arm a squick. She yelled out and thrust her own bayonet into his belly, prompting him to drop his rifle and collapse.

It was pure turmoil in the trenches; men shouting in every direction, gunshots popping off at random, horrible slashing sounds, the ragged breathing of masked faces.

"You're hurt!" Alek said, spying her minor wound.

Deryn glanced down at her arm, and found the her sleeve was torn open, blood seeping out of a shallow cut and through her shirt. "I'm fine!" she shouted back, reloading.

Just then, a small group of war cries pierced the sounds of battle. Deryn turned to witness Ian and the five pipers clawing their way over the trenches with great ferocity and speed, not even bothering to use the trenches themselves. The men all wore gasmasks, and were armed to the teeth, with Ian wielding one of the Vickers water-cooled machine guns kept at the back of the trenches in the event the position was flanked.

_Barking spiders._ Deryn thought to herself; that gun weighed close to forty pounds! Ian must have been much stronger than Deryn assumed; the officer wasn't even hindered by the belts of ammunition slung over his shoulders.

A cry of pain caught her attention, and she brought her gaze back to the battle in front of her. Hoffman's hand had been run through by a German's bayonet, and he was shouting out with a mix of surprise and anger. Apparently, Hoffman's yell had caught Volger's attention as well, for the count sprinted to the lip of the trench, cleared it in a couple hops, and tackled the German. They wrestled for his sword, but Volger quickly prevailed, slashing the man across the neck.

"Lookout Volger!" Alek cried.

The count glanced into the thinning slew of oncoming Germans. Two were charging at him, bayonets at the ready. Volger reacted instantly, ripping the bayonetted rifle from Hoffman's hand, and thrusting it at the nearest German. The German's speed and momentum redoubled the force of the thrust, and the bayonet, along with the rifle's barrel, went straight through him. The count pulled the trigger and fired at the second German, knocking him to the ground.

"God's wounds!" Alek swore as he and Deryn turned to shield themselves the grisly sight.

The thick cloud of poisonous gas was beginning to thin, and some of the Germans began retreating. Insults began erupting from the soldiers around Deryn, and shouts of victory spread down the line.

Deryn turned to Alek, smiling. "I think we've-"

She never finished her sentence. Something slammed into her helmet with enough force to yank her head sideways, sounding a loud metal _clang_! She immediately felt herself falling into darkness…the sounds of battle muffling and fading around her…Alek shouting her name…falling...falling…


	10. Chapter 10

Deryn's head felt like it was going to explode when consciousness returned to her. She tried to squint her eyes open, but a horribly luminescent light slammed her eyelids shut again. She whimpered slightly at the shock, and drew her arms over her face to shield it from the brightness. What happened? They'd won, hadn't they? Why was she out cold like this?

"Deryn?" came a cautious whisper to her left.

"Alek?"

A sigh of relief escaped Alek. "Yes, it's me. Are you alright?"

"I'm not sure. . .where in blazes am I? And what happened?" Deryn asked through the thumping in her head.

"You got lucky, that's what." Alek said.

Deryn rolled onto her side to face Alek and squinted at him, shielding her eyes from the light with her hand. "Lucky? My head's barking pounding and I can't see anything." She grumbled, her eyes watering.

"But your head is still on your shoulders," Alek said, producing a helmet that had one massive dent adorning it.

"Is that…my barking helmet?" she asked.

"Yes," Alek replied, "someone shot at you, but, thankfully, your helmet did its job, and the bullet only glanced off."

Deryn grimaced as another wave of attic buffeting hit her, "I suppose it's better than losing my head…" she muttered. She tried to sit up, but immediately smacked her head against something that began swinging and creaking.

"Gah! Bloody bum-rag!" she swore, recoiling and rubbing the side of her head. Alek reached out to stop the swinging object, which turned out to be the light source she had such a tough time with. "Who put the barking lamp there?" she mumbled.

"I'm sorry," Alek said, removing the lantern from its hanging mount, setting it on the ground, taking the blinding light away to reveal half of a roof structure and the inky sky. "I misjudged it slightly."

"Apparently," Deryn said as she cautiously sat up in case Alek had put something else in the way. She found she was sitting up on one of two wooden crates slid together. "How long have I been out then?"

"Only for today. The bullet knocked you out early this morning, and the sun set about an hour ago."

Deryn looked at the sky past the roof again, her eyes faring much better in the absence of light. "Are those clouds?"

"Yes," Alek said, "they rolled in soon after you went out. It's been spitting rain and light snow on us all day."

As her body woke up, Deryn could feel that the air around her was bloody freezing! How had she stayed alive unconscious without any extra clothing or even a blanket? Suddenly, she realized she was wearing Alek's piloting jacket.

"Did you put this on me?" She asked.

"I did."

"But don't you need it in this cold?"

Alek lifted the lamp from the ground to reveal he had on two or three layers of jackets, some with holes in them, and some still bloody.

"I was able to make use of the jackets available," he said, giving the ground a sideways look, "and so has everyone else. The dead are helping the living. My jacket is still much warmer than these put together, so I thought it would be more useful to you." His gaze returned to her, an innocent smile on his face.

"You bum-rag," she said with a smile. She stood slowly, still a bit wobbly and off balance.

"By the way, here's another helmet," Alek said, returning the smile and handing her the headwear. "They seem to do their job well."

"Aye, I would say so." She took the helmet and plopped it on her head, which hurt a little less now that her blood was flowing. She was about to start walking when a noise on the edge of her consciousness halted her mid-step.

"Do you hear that?" she asked, looking at Alek.

Alek looked past her, listening intently to their surroundings. Deryn did the same, trying to ensure she wasn't just hearing things. There it was again! Footsteps. Big footsteps in the distance, followed by the rumble of engines and the groan of gears mixed with the occasional hiss of hydraulics.

_Walkers._

Alek evidently heard it too; a worried look crossed his face.

"Where they here while I was out?" Deryn asked.

"No, they must be just arriving."

Deryn remembered what Ramsey had said about a line of walkers coming their way, but how many was that? Two? Twenty?

"We can't fight walkers like this!" she said, "We've got no heavy artillery or beasties!"

"What should we do?" Alek asked.

"Warn whoever's in command, that's what," Deryn said, "Maybe they can scrounge something up or call for some big guns."

"It might be too late for that, but it's worth a try." Alek said, beginning to walk with the lantern. Deryn followed after him, weighing their options…

…..

"But sir, a frontal attack is suicide!" Ian exclaimed. "How do we take on a bloody walker with small arms, sir?"

"I don't know, but what else do we have? A war chimera would only scratch at it." Replied Corporal Briden in his stoic manner.

"We are going to need to be smart about this if we are to succeed without terrible casualties." Volger chimed in.

"Aye," Ian agreed, "But how do we go about it?"

Everyone was contemplative for a time.

Hoffman suddenly began talking to Volger in hushed, hurried German. The Welsh corporal eyed them suspiciously; he'd never quite conquered his wariness of the Austrians. "Do you happen to have explosives and detonators?" the count translated.

"We still have some explosives, but the detonators are in horrible disrepair. We tried blasting our way through the clay layer while building the trenches, but that obviously didn't work very well. The detonators suffered from horrible water damage, among other things." The corporal responded.

"That doesn't matter," Volger translated for Hoffman, "We only need to see if we can use them."

"But what for?" Briden asked.

"We can wire the explosives to go off in the walkers; we would only need to disassemble the detonators."

"So you're proposing we send you over to rig the walkers to explode?" the corporal said, tipping his head to the side in a manner of disbelief, "How do we know you won't just turn on us and use the machines to help the Germans break our line?"

"We have our reasons," Volger said, "But the Germans are our mutual enemies."

"You can trust them, sir," Ian said with a nod. "You have my word."

Briden gave him a long stare before returning his eyes to the ground in the center of the small circle of individuals. "How many walkers are there?" He asked.

"I counted four, sir," Alek said quickly.

The corporal swore softly. "Four walkers? What are they planning on? It'd only take one to overrun us."

"Perhaps they wish to guarantee that outcome." Volger said quietly.

The group was silent.

"What if we stole one?" Deryn said.

Briden gave her an inquisitive look. "And how do you propose we do that?" he asked flatly.

"Well, seeing as we have a master engineer and a cracking good walker pilot, I say we…relieve the Germans of one of their machines. We may actually have a fighting chance then."

The group was quiet once more, until Ian began chuckling.

"It's bloody crazy, but it might actually work."

"You're the highest ranking officer of the airmen here, correct?" Briden asked.

"Aye, sir."

"Right then, you lead the team. I want you to take all who is necessary to make this a possibility; come back with a walker and as many men as you left with. If all else fails, cause as much damage as possible."

"Yessir!" Ian said with a salute and a wink. He looked at the circle of faces around him. "Now, you lot seem fair enough, unless someone wants to bow out."

No one stepped forward or raised their hand.

"Good! Let's go recruiting."

…..

Snow was beginning to trickle down from the sky, the tiny flakes swirled around and were illuminated by the Clankers' electrikal lighting to the right, as well as the Darwinist lamps on the left side of No Man's Land. But there was no light over here; the clouds covered the moon and stars. If someone carried their own light source, they would be noticed for sure, and most likely shot to pieces by the Clanker machine guns.

Deryn took a deep breath to steady her nerves, sending a cloud of white out in front of her. She, along with Alek, Ian, Hoffman, Volger, Allan, two other airmen and three foot soldiers kneeled in the snow in a small thicket of trees upon a small knoll, staying as quiet and still as possible in the cold, waiting for Ian and his eagle eyes to signal when they could move again. The Clankers were working on their four new, impressive, two-legged stormwalkers late into the night, making final repairs and modifications for an attack the officers of the Darwinist trenches suspected would come the next day. The bright flashes of their welders lanced across the snow, nearly reaching the hiding spots of the small group, and the sounds of hammers, ratchets, and wrenches echoed in the stillness. The word around the Darwinist fortifications was that it was lucky the Germans had chosen this night to stop shelling the clart out of their trenches, but Deryn suspected it was a combination of the oppressive, concussion-reflecting clouds and low levels of ammunition.

She breathed again, then flinched and set a hand to her side where the German had shot her on that cobblestone street in the middle of Germany over a month ago. The three wounds hadn't healed fully yet, and squatting for ten minutes at a time didn't help them feel any better.

"Are you alright?" Alek whispered.

"Aye, just a wee bit sore still," she murmured back.

"Glad I'm not the only one," Alek said. She could barely see him, but she sensed him smile a little.

"Get ready lads…"came Ian's hoarse whisper from the front of the group. As Deryn watched, a couple Germans in dirty, grease-covered uniforms descended ladders laid against the engine mount of the walker closest to the group, carrying large canvas sacks of tools over their shoulders. As soon as their boots touched the ground, Ian whispered "Forward!"

The group moved as silently and quickly as possible and staying low to the ground, Deryn's old wounds complaining all the way. Hoffman carried a small bag of tools; he had spent a good hour arranging them and wrapping them in cloth so as not to clatter about as he moved. No one was allowed more than one bullet per pocket if they were allowed to carry a gun, which would only be used as a very last resort. As a result, everyone carried either knives or some sort of way to quietly take down the Germans. Newkirk had quite happily stumbled across a medium sized bottle of chloroform, which he carried in his hand to keep the liquid from splashing and making more noise. Volger and Ian, of course, silently carried their sharpened dueling swords among an array of trench knives collected from the dead soldiers who'd perished during the last attack. Alek had given Deryn one of the pistols he'd been using during the same attack, though she hardly wanted the situation to demand its use.

Ian suddenly held up a hand, and the group followed him to a crouch. Deryn could hear more of his stolen German uniform popping and crackling with the strain of covering his massive body. Even with hours of modifications, the gigantic man still looked ridiculous. Deryn reckoned they all looked a bit out of place in the grey uniforms, accept, of course, for Alek and his men. Their facial structures and demeanours seemed to match the outfits well. Perhaps their fluent German made it more convincing…

Deryn scanned the trenches just below them, but couldn't spot anything. Suddenly, a tired-looking German soldier came into view, headed right towards the base of the hill directly under them. The group tensed, ready to snatch him into the woods and keep him quiet if needed.

The German stopped a short distance away from the walkers, then began fiddling with his belt.

_Pistol!_ Deryn thought to herself. The group collectively held their breath, waiting for the soldier's next move. If he were to give them away now, it'd all be for naught. All he had to do was look up and stare until someone in the group had to breathe, seeing as he was only a good twenty yards away.

Then the German did something that made Deryn's ears turn red-hot. He whipped out a pistol, but not the kind Deryn was thinking of, and began to relieve himself.

A collected sigh passed through the group, and Deryn couldn't help but laugh quietly at herself.

"It's definitely cold out, eh Mr. Sharp?" Newkirk whispered as he nudged her arm.

Deryn's ears burned hotter at the comedic reference as she tried to keep from laughing.

The German continued relieving himself for quite some time, prompting Deryn to wonder how much liquid he could possibly hold.

"He's created the Gheluvelt River," Alek murmured over his shoulder. An amused smile spread through the group, along with a quiet, wheezing laugh from one of the airmen.

Finally, the steaming stream trickled to a halt, and the Clanker hurriedly packed everything back up, sheltering it from the cold. He turned and walked back towards the walkers, then to the trenches beyond, his boots crunching the occasional fresh patch of collected snow.

"Well that's a story worth telling," Ian mused quietly to the group. "Now let's get moving and see if we can scare the piss out of the rest of them."

The group skulked forward again in the direction the lone German had been only moments before. The familiar looking walkers loomed in the darkness, the lines of their hulking shapes softened against the dark clouds above.

Alek and Hoffman immediately peeled off towards the closest walker, Hoffman un-shouldering the bag as he went. They knelt next to the walker's immense leg and dug into the bag, removing a pair of formidable looking cutting tools, then set to work strategically severing hoses, wires, and other mechanikal parts of the walker.

Ian and Allen clambered up the outside of the next stormwalker, the Scot moving swiftly from years of climbing on the ratlines. Once they reached the top, the two split off; Ian began wrenching on the hatch to open it while Allan moved like a mountain goat over the walker's top to the engines. Allan turned and signaled to two other foot soldiers who, in turn, tossed up two small, soft-ball sized objects, which Allan promptly stuffed down the exhaust pipes.

Ian finally opened the hatch, then contorted his massive body into the cabin, beckoning for Deryn to follow. She nodded, then ran beneath the walker, grabbing hold of the chain ladder that fell out of the opening above her head moments later. She only managed to climb up a few rungs before Ian simply hauled her and the rest of the heavy ladder up into the belly of the walker.

"Barking spiders…"she mumbled, impressed once again with the man's sheer physical strength.

The inside of the walker was completely dark; the engines needed to be on to provide power for any electrikal lighting. The resourceful Ian produced a small glass sphere of glow worms, already shining brightly enough for Deryn to see everything that was needed seeing: ammunition, and lots of it.

Ian waved his arm out of the belly hatch, and two airmen silently and quickly sprinted to the opening.

"Keep it quiet boys," Ian whispered, slowly lowering a belt of machine gun ammo into the waiting arms of one of the airmen.

Deryn followed suit, carefully lowering more ammunition belts into the arms of the airmen below. Suddenly, there was a shout of German. Deryn froze, and the two members of the Leviathan's crew below her whipped their heads towards the trenches on their right.

There was another shout, this time questioning in nature, and the two crewmen responded by nodding their heads from side to side.

Alek's voice cut through the awkward silence. He spoke calmly, yet fluidly in quick German, with Hoffman joining in as he began to falter. The German who had shouted at them in the first place was speaking a little more quietly now, becoming more relaxed. The two airmen below played their part, shifting their weight to one foot with their hands in their pockets, the belts slung over their shoulders and around their necks.

"Very clever," Ian whispered. Somehow, the giant man had managed to stuff himself into the shadows, out of sight of anyone who may have become curious and taken a peek inside the stormwalker. "They've convinced that nosy German that the ammunition may have been damaged by snow runoff."

"Makes sense," Deryn whispered back, "the snow could've melted off of the engines."

Finally, after a couple long, tense minutes, Deryn heard the footsteps of the German heading away from their wee operation. Almost instantly Ian shoved another ammunition belt into her hands.

"Just a couple more," the officer said. He slung one around his shoulders, then gave one to her to do the same. "We'll keep one, just in case. Now, follow me."

He waved the two airmen below away, and within a few short seconds, she and Ian had hauled themselves up to the cockpit. Ian set the sphere of glow worms in a strategic spot so that their light spread about the cabin. He then produced two small, identical combination wrenches out of separate pockets of his uniform and handed one to Deryn.

"Lucky for us," he said, "the Germans only bolt their Spandaus to the walker, so they can simply be removed with a bit of strength and a spanner. And, thanks to your Austrian friends, we know exactly what size to use." He smiled, then crawled through the extremely cramped space to the portside Spandau machine gun and began loosening the bolts holding it to the walker's frame. Deryn made her way over to the starboard Spandau, but found that she couldn't move the bolt at all, no matter how hard she pulled of pushed. She resorted to kicking it, and, after a few good whacks, it loosened up.

Just then, light flickered in through the open viewport, casting their shadows onto the wall behind them. Deryn shielded her eyes and looked out of the viewport to see Allan straddling the cannon in the belly of the walker, a blazing welder in his hands.

"What's Allan doing?" Deryn asked, retreating before she was blinded.

"Oh, he's welding a steel plug into the end of the cannon. As soon as they fire it, the barrel will look like an opened banana peel, and it'll be absolutely useless." He said with a smile and a small chuckle. "But get a move on; we're running out of time."

Deryn returned to toiling with the stubborn bolts, but after more unsuccessful attempts, she gave Ian a sheepish look.

"Oh that's fine Mr. Sharp," he said, grinning again, "here, take mine." He hefted the heavy machine gun to Deryn, and she nearly dropped it to the floor of the walker.

"Barking spiders!" she breathed, trying to cradle the weapon in her arms so that she might actually have a chance at holding it.

"Wow," Ian said, "these bolts are bloody impossible."

"See, it wasn't me just being a…" Her voice trailed off as the bolt gave way.

"Ah, don't blame yourself." Ian winked. Soon, he lifted the weapon from its mount, the bolts falling to the deck and rolling about. Deryn handed the spanner back to Ian who put each of them back into their respective pockets. "Now, I wonder if your Austrian friends are on time. Wait here." With that, the Scot lowered himself to the gunner's cabin.

Deryn heard some muffled voices, then Ian returned, the machine gun and ammunition belt gone and replaced with a messenger bag.

"Would you be a dear and bring me the glow worms?" Ian said as he made his way to the saunters. Deryn plucked the sphere from its perch, then kneeled next to Ian just as he was opening the bag, revealing several pie-tin shaped objects.

Mines.

"But I thought we were going to use regular explosives." Deryn said, giving Ian a questioning look.

"Aye, we were, until we spotted these beauties." He lifted one of the disks from the messenger bag, revealing a tangle of wires protruding from a crudely cut hole in the side. "They've been…modified."

He took the light sphere from Deryn then wriggled beneath the saunters and the control panel on his back.

"I can replace some important wires under here with the ones you see in the mine. As soon as the saunter goes forward, it completes the circuit, detonating the charge."

"Cripes," Deryn breathed, imagining what a mine that size would do inside a cramped, sealed cabin like this. The shook with the thought. "You sure they won't barking explode as soon as you hook them up, right?"

Ian chortled. "One can never be certain, but, in theory, these require the engines to be running for any power to get to them."

"Well that makes me dead confident," Deryn said sarcastically.

The jittering lights from Allan's torch halted, and Deryn heard his feet drop to the ground.

"That a' boy Allan." Ian said while he worked.

Deryn peered out the viewport, and her heart started racing. There was another dark shape walking from right to left across the viewport. Light from the trenches reflected off the metal helmet, causing the tip to glisten. The German was walking straight towards the walker to Deryn's left, the one Alek and Hoffman had immediately set to work on, and the one Allan was now making his way over to.

"Ian, we may have a problem…" she said, but her voice halted as she saw another dark shape skulking up behind the German. The shape suddenly leapt onto the soldier's back, like a monkey attacking a handler for food, and wrapped a hand around the soldier's mouth and nose. The surprised Clanker fell backwards, throwing his arms around in an attempt to break free. As soon as the two hit the ground, the figure on his back used its legs to hold the Clanker's arms down. After a few long seconds, the shape let go, the German's body limp and motionless. The shape stood and faced Deryn's walker, producing a medium-sized bottle of…chloroform! It was Newkirk!

"Never mind, sir, Newkirk's got it."

"Oh very good!" Ian said, beginning to dislodge himself from the cramped space beneath the control panel. "Well," Ian rose to a crouch, "that's two walkers down for the count. Now comes the hard part."

"Hard part", of course, meant disabling the last walker while warming up the engines of the one they were planning on stealing without alerting the entire German army in the process. This was also the most risky part of the whole operation, and things were likely to go wrong, Deryn reckoned.

A short time later, Deryn was scrambling down the belly hatch ladder, her boots crunching on the freshly-fallen snow. Ian rolled the ladder back up into the belly, then simply hopped out of the opening while pulling the hatch closed, seeing as the fall wasn't too daunting for him.

"Alright, go!" he whispered, taking off into a long-legged sprint towards the third walker. Alek, Hoffman, and Allen were already halfway there, Alek's stride still a bit awkward due to his wound. Everyone reached the machine just as Ian and Allan leapt onto it and began to climb. Within a minute, the chain ladder dropped down, and Hoffman, followed by Alek and two foot soldiers, scrambled their way up into the walker. Ian climbed out of the top hatch once again, then clambered his way down to the ground where he liberated Deryn of the machine gun and ammunition belt.

"Alright, Allan and I will hold them off as long as we can. Give us some covering fire from that starboard Spandau." He said, loading the belt into the machine gun's magazine and slinging the remaining length over his shoulder.

"Aye, but get out as soon as we move, sir." Deryn said.

"Don't worry Sharp, we will." He winked and put his hand on her shoulder. "Be seeing you."

With that, Deryn ascended the ladder.


	11. Chapter 11

Alek's ears perked up as the sound of Deryn's boots made their way into the cockpit. He smiled and flexed his hands on the saunters; everyone was aboard.

It was nice to finally grip saunters attached to a walker again instead of the one used for throttle control on the Leviathan's engine pod. A number of months had passed since he'd piloted a stormwalker, but it was all slowly coming back to him now as his eyes scanned the dials and gauges.

Deryn's voice cut through the relative silence of the still walker, "Right, as soon as we fire her up, Ian and Allen with start chattering away at the trenches to keep them pinned down so we can warm up, but don't doddle!" Alek turned to answer just as she took charge of the Spandau to his right. He decided not to vocalize, she was quite focused.

Nervous energy perforated and reverberated throughout the walker's cabin. Behind Alek were two British soldiers; one airman that looked to be about as old as Alek himself, and a disheveled man from the trenches whose demeanor betrayed his long, hellish months of trench warfare. Below him, in the gunners' cabin, resided Hoffman and Volger, the count filling in for Bauer's absence.

It was decided that Bauer would stay on the Darwinist side of the trenches just in case the Germans managed to get their last walker working. The Clanker's inept knowledge of the stormwalker's weaknesses would prove extremely helpful if such a situation were to occur.

Alek took a deep breath. "Ready?" He called out. Deryn pulled and released the bolt of the machine gun, priming it to fire. One more second, and Alek engaged the engines.

The silence suddenly exploded as the massive Daimler engines cranked into life. The entire structure of the walker trembled with power, and the gauges all around him began to jump and arc. Alek carefully but rapidly increased the idle, hoping the engines wouldn't crack a piston, or worse, in the cold.

The air in the cabin was buffeted by the rapid concussions of the Spandau bursting to life. Deryn was right, the Clanker weapon _was_ quite loud and unpleasant.

Alek glanced at the steam pressure gauges. The needles climbed painfully slowly; at this rate, it'd be another two and a half minutes before they could move. The prince spun in his seat and shouted at the Darwinists over the noise, "You two! Provide some covering fire from up top, I'm going to close the viewports!" The soldiers nodded, but their 'yes sirs' were drowned out by the Spandau.

Without warning, a spray of bullets rang against the walker's armour, a couple making their way in through the Spandau's gun port and ricocheting their way around the cockpit. Alek, caught halfway out of his chair, dropped to the floor and covered his head as Deryn let out a string of profanities made of some words Alek had never heard before. He immediately rose to a crouch, shouting, "Is everyone alright?"

All answered with an "Aye," or "Okay". With his confidence restored, he made his way to the viewport crank and wrenched it as closed as he dared.

Another wave of machine gun fire hit the outside of the walker, eliciting a "Oh that's how you want to play is it?!" from Deryn before the Spandau's round tore through the air once again. Through the explosions of gunfire, Alek could sense the Daimler engines changing pitch and rhythm; they were finally warming up.

He lunged across the cabin and back into his seat as another bullet bounced around, pelting him with sparks as its energy was expended on the metal interior of the walker. He swore when he saw the pressure gauges had barely moved.

"Oh your princeliness! We've got a problem!" Deryn shouted.

"What sort of problem?"

"The Clankers have figured out what's going on, and they're pushing our boys back!" She unleashed another burst of gunfire. "How soon until we can get moving?!"

"Another minute or so!" Alek said after giving the pressure gauges a glance. "I'll call in those two from up top!"

He had just reached to pull himself out of the top hatch when Deryn let out a surprised squeal. Alek whipped his head towards the sound to find a German soldier halfway through the Spandau's gunport, the hot barrel of the machine gun under his armpit, and a pistol shoved in Deryn's face.

"I'm going to-!" the Clanker began shouting in German, but he was cut-off as the older British soldier threw himself at the intruder, having leapt off the topside of the walker, tearing the Clanker from the gunport and smashing them both to the ground below.

"Barking spiders!" Deryn shouted, leaning out of the opening. Alek hurriedly hoisted himself topside, the night air feeling strangely cool on his sweat-dotted face. The blasts from gunfire weren't as muffled up here, and he felt miles more exposed. Alek found the young airmen crouching and firing from behind a stack of supplies strapped to the walker's topside and crawled to join him.

"We're almost ready to move!" He shouted over the rumbling idle of the engines, which were just feet away. "I suggest you join us inside!"

"But wha' about Lipton?!" The airman yelled back. "He took that German off th' side!"

Alek and the airman peered down to the two soldiers struggling in the snow below. Their movements were illuminated in the rapid, flickering flashes of Deryn's gunfire, leaving gaps in the proceedings of their hand-to-hand combat. After a few seconds, both were on their feet and lunging at one another, brandishing wicked trench knives. Another burst, and the British soldier had his knife pressed against the German's throat, much like Deryn did in Switzerland. Alek wondered why he didn't just end the man's life and run, but then he noticed a group of six Clanker soldiers from the trenches walking towards the two, rifles aimed squarely at them both. The Darwinist was using the German as a meat shield!

In a flash, it was all over. The six Germans sacrificed the life of their own soldier, and shot them both to pieces. Alek swore and the airman beside him shot at the Germans, sending one spinning to the ground and prompting the rest to raise their rifles and fire at the walker.

"God's wounds!" The prince exclaimed as he dived for the viewport.

"Where the bloody hell were you?!" Deryn yelled as Alek dropped back into the cabin.

"That doesn't matter, just get a move on!" Came Ian's voice before Alek could answer. He turned to find Ian's upper body protruding from the hatch to the gunners' cabin.

"Yes sir!" Alek responded, sliding into the pilot's chair and checking the gauges. They had just enough to get going! He engaged the pneumatics in the walker's joints, and they rose to their full height before Alek shoved a saunter forward, the stormwalker's massive foot lurching towards No-Man's-Land.

"That's it! Good show!" Ian said before dropping below.

"The buggers are getting into their own walkers! Good thing they'll have to warm up as well." Deryn said, pulling her head back inside the walker.

"Yes, but they can still fire their cannons at us!" Alek cautioned.

"Oh, right." Deryn replied a bit sheepishly.

Alek was proved right moments later as a huge _boom_ shook the walker, a massive geyser of dirt flying up beside them. Alek swore and fought to maintain control as the stormwalker's armour was pelted by debris.

The sun was making its way over the horizon now; their little excursion had taken longer than expected, and now they were in danger of devastating artillery raining down on them.

A shattering explosion came from behind them. "What was that?!" Alek shouted through the noise. He felt Deryn's boots on the chair behind him, balancing as the walker lurched with every step. She swore.

"One of the walker's cannons exploded on them, but it looks like Randal's hit!" Alek felt her boots leave the back of his seat. "Don't-!" he began, but she'd already pulled herself out of the hatch.

Alek swore and gritted his teeth. He swerved to avoid a nasty barbed-wire emplacement. Every _ping_ of small arms fire that bounced off the walker's armour only worried him more. His world was rocked by another cannon shell landing close by, followed closely by another, then another. He felt a cold pit form in his chest. Those were too much too close together to be from one walker cannon!

"Deryn! Get back in here!" He shouted, even though he knew she wouldn't be able to hear anything out there in all the tumult. Two more shells landed, one right after the other, on either side of the walker. Alek's hands slipped off the controls for an awful moment, his world tipping sideways. Finally, his hands regained their grip and he steadied the machine just in time to avoid another immense artillery blast.

"Barking spiders!" Deryn fell back into the cabin, dragging a limp young man in an airman uniform with him. Alek glanced at her and saw that she was covered in blood.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his hands white-knuckled on the controls.

Her answer was drowned out as the whole world seemed to explode. Alek felt the walker's legs tear out from beneath them, the viewport falling towards the muck of No-Man's-Land.

"No!" He shouted. Three more deafening concussions tossed the walker around, the passengers buffeted and rocked violently from wall to wall.

Suddenly all was black and eerily silent.

OOOOO

"Alek!" Deryn's voice was muffled, and he barely registered her shaking his shoulders. "Please wake up, you daft prince!"

"Wha-? Where are we?" Alek said groggily.

"We're in the middle of a barking battle you ninny! Now get up, we need to move!"

Alek slowly checked all his limbs to make sure they all worked. Nothing seemed to be broken, but his head was pounding, and he tasted blood. "Randal!" he heard Deryn shout over the ringing in his ears. He rose to all fours and crawled towards the wounded airman on the crooked floor, which was now a wall. Randal was laying on his back in a pool of his blood. He gasped and hacked for breath, and his shaking, pale hands clutched at his chest. Deryn knelt beside him and brushed away a lock of his brown hair, which was also splattered with blood.

"M-mom?" He squeaked, his wide open eyes seeing nothing.

"No, it's Mr. Sharp," Deryn said soothingly, continuing to brush his hair with her hand. She looked up at Alek, her lips drawn tight into a straight line.

"I…I want m-my mom…" Randal said at just above a whisper. Tears began streaming from his eyes. Deryn sat behind him, putting his head in her lap and taking one of his bloody hands.

"I don't want to die…I…" He sobbed uncontrollably, coughing up more blood. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry mommy…" He breathed, clamping his eyes shut.

"Shhh," Deryn whispered, "It's alright."

Randal lurched, his back arching and his mouth and eyes wide open. His body slowly went limp, his last breath raggedly escaping his blood-filled mouth.

Alek stared at the dead soldier in silence. This was the reality of war, the reality he never experienced from the glorious heights of the Leviathan or from inside the protective shielding of a Walker. This airman was a mere boy, perhaps even the same age as Alek, but he had died alongside countless others in a war that was beginning to affect the entire world now. How many more were going to die?

"Alek," Deryn said, breaking him out of his trance. She stared hard into his eyes, hers filling with tears. "We need to keep moving." Her voice broke on the last word.

"Yes…yes we do." Alek managed, shakily making his way towards the gunner's hatch. He opened it, revealing Ian wrapping a bandage around Allan's bloodied upper arm. "We need to go." He said.

"Figured as much," Ian said, hauling himself out of the hatch, machinegun in tow. "Didn't think you fell over on purpose or anything." He said, flashing a quick smile and nudging his arm as he passed. Allan crawled out of the hatch, muttering "Bloody artillery."

Alek froze, wide-eyed. He heard the muffled thundering of another walker's feet approaching mixed in with the _ping_ of more small arms fire. "Go!" He shouted, heading towards the top hatch, which was now the forward wall. "The other walker's on its way!"

Ian shoved the hatch open and swore. "Were right in the middle of No-Mans-Land! There's no way we can make it back!"

The walker's footsteps began to shake the cabin now, and Alek saw its feet approaching out the starboard gunport.

"But we can't stay in here! The walker will blow us to pieces!" Alek exclaimed, throwing a hand towards the opening.

"Aye, that or artillery!" Allan shouted.

"Well, what other options do we-" Ian was cut-off as a concussive roar battered their ears, followed by a crashing of noise and the top wall of the walker caving in.

"Blisters!' Deryn swore. "What the hell was that?!"

Alek blinked and looked out the viewport again. It was almost obscured by the walker's foot, but he could see it as though he were looking at it from above. Was it on its side?

"I think something hit it. Or it was shot by one of its own artillery guns." Alek said.

"The mines!" Ian said. "Mr. Sharp and I wired mines to its saunters earlier…I just don't know why they waited until _now_ to go off." He said, scratching his head beneath his helmet.

"No matter," Alek said, "Now we have more cover to escape! Let's go!"

With that, the four of them scrambled out the hatch, leaving poor Randal's motionless form behind.


End file.
